


To Be Us

by MargaretMary05



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargaretMary05/pseuds/MargaretMary05
Summary: Minerva McGonagall returns to the Wizarding World barely six months after she left it. She returns a mournful, sad soul whose past life is clinging stubbornly at her heels.She returns pregnant. Her baby, not yet born, has already changed Minerva's destiny; everything she had ever know is thrown into the fire and from the ashes she must rise a mother, a defender.And behind it all are the men whose actions and decisions have claimed her. She cannot rid of them and yet, they do not mould into her past, present or future. The great love that she thought she had been destined for is in shatters and instead, takes on a new form, a form which will use up all her strength and determination - will it break her or finally piece her life together?Could she dare to embrace happiness?





	1. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One

Albus knew that she was there before he saw her. He could feel her magic as it pulsed through the thick air. 

She was clad in black silk which came up to her throat and covered her feet. She walked through the crowd like a thin wisp of cloud, a start contrast to the colourfully attired witches and wizards who bustled through Diagon Alley. A pale face sat beneath dark, slightly curled hair which was pinned up high on her head. A youthful glow hid beneath sorrow which clung to her eyes in dark circles, her pointed features drawn and overwrought. Her pale mouth was set in a thin, straight line and those eyes, those emerald which illuminated her whole face, were wide and dull, filled with a grief in which she was lost. Twenty-five years old and yet she looked like an old woman, a woman who felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, who had no chance of turning back. A hopeless girl, a girl who had no direction, no purpose except to wander the streets in a daze and mourn. 

Albus, who was standing in the doorway of Ollivander’s in an attempt to shield himself from the drizzle of rain which rolled over, noticed her straight away. He noticed her silent, solemn figure and his heart twisted and turned in his chest. Minerva Mcgonngall was a ghost of her former self. Albus hadn’t seen her since she had fled from their world and the change was horrific. Gone was her pride and dignity which had oozed from her movements, gone was the pale blossom in her cheeks. 

As her figure moved further and further into the distance, Albus panicked. Guilt and shame mingled like an incorrectly brewed potion is his stomach. The doorway was becoming crowded now as people waited outside in an orderly line, eager to purchase their wands, making it more difficult for Albus to see her. He was a tall man, taller than most but still, she was slipping away, out of his sight, like she had before. Only that time, he’d been able to push her from his mind for what choice had he had? Now, however, his soul would not be able to rest easy if he just let her walk away, alone and without a friend. 

With a dry mouth, he politely but pointedly made his way throw the crowds, his strides wide in the effort to catch up to her. Within moments, he was behind her and instinctively held out a hand to tap her shoulder, only to quickly pull in back to his side. He shouldn’t startle her like that and so instead called her name. 

Minerva turned slowly, almost reluctantly and it took a second for her to phase back into life. At first, she looked at him as if she didn’t know him, as if he were a memory that she was trying to recall. But then, her eyes focused and her mouth fell open, shocked, frightened. “Albus,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” 

“I didn’t know that you had come back,” he said, keeping his eyes on her face. “I hadn’t heard from you.” 

“No,” she replied. “I’m staying with Poppy for the moment until I…well, until the baby arrives.” Subconsciously her hand rose to sit on the small neat bump which protruded from her thin frame. 

It hadn’t taken long for the subject to be brought up and reluctant Albus acknowledged the baby which was growing inside her, desperately wishing that it were his and detesting himself for it. “When I wrote to you, you said that you were going to stay in the Muggle world.” 

“And I meant it, at the time,” Minerva said. “But things change. I was only there because of what happened and him, of course. Now that he’s no longer there, why should I stay? It’s better that I move as far away from it as possible. As far away from him.” 

“I see,” Albus said quietly. “Minerva, I’ve wanted to speak to you for so long, to apologise-“ 

“How is Mrs Dumbledore?” Minerva asked, cutting across Albus. “I hope that she is well.” 

“She is, thank you. She asks after you all of the time.” 

“She shouldn’t. She deserves better ways to use her time.”

“She’s so very fond of you, you know that. She’ll be so pleased to know that you are back, I know I am. It’s a relief-“ 

“Don’t, Albus,” Minerva held up her hand. Her voice was tight and commanding, the first glimpse she had revealed of the Minerva Albus knew so well. “I hadn’t expected to see you here today or I wouldn’t of come.” 

“I just want to make sure that you are well. Coping. We’re friends-“ 

Minerva laughed bitterly. “I think we passed that months ago! Why are you here, Albus?” 

“I’m on my way to the Ministry-“ 

“No, I mean why are you here, talking to me?” 

“As I said, I was worried-“ 

“Oh, it’s a bit late for that! Where were you when…when-“ she shook her head. “Just go home, Albus. There’s nothing I want from you or to hear from you. To much has happened, too much for us to go back. Everything has changed and it will be that way forever.” 

Albus has nothing to say. She was right and he didn’t want her to be. All he could do was stand pathetically before her, trying to fight the pain of his breaking heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ 

“Go back to your wife, Albus,” Minerva hissed before turned her back on him and hurrying away. 


	2. Our Baby

Minerva stopped as soon as she walked a few hundred yards and leaned on the wall, breathless and sweating. The cold rain which had been drizzling all morning continued to dampen her skin but it did not cool her. She cheeks, her chest, her hands were all on fire. She was irritated - how could she have been so stupid? Why had she thought that it would be a good idea to go to Diagon Alley when there was always a chance that _he_ would be there? Did she do it on purpose? Somewhere beneath the grief and pain, had a small part of her hoped that he would be there? Had she wanted to see him?

If she had then she had been wrong to want to. When she had heard his voice, soft and commanding, a shiver of delight ran through her until she turned and saw his face - the blue eyes and bearded chin, the sympathetic smile - it had all brought her back, grounded her so deeply she had been afraid that she wouldn't have been able to move her feet. Everything that had happened, between them and without him, ran like ice through her veins. She had wanted to spurn him, to spit in his face or slap it hard with the wide palm of her elegant hand but she knew she was better than that. At least, she wanted to be. She wanted to be ten times what he was. His sympathy, his obvious delight at seeing her again and his concern had twisted like a knife in her stomach - how dare he! Didn't he know what he had done?

She could finally breath normally now and she felt a slight chill brought on from the rain. She placed a hand on her stomach, which sat hard and pronounced below it, and looked down to see the gold glitter on her finger. A thin, faded band given earnestly and taken desperately. She felt the life wriggle inside of her, a life whose beginnings she did not know. Everything had happened so fast, day melted into day until it felt as if it had all happened in the same moment, the same second.

Minerva sighed. There was no prying them apart now. She hadn't the ability or the will to try. This was her new life, the only familiar thing being Poppy, who didn't ask questions and didn't fuss. Minerva was grateful for that.

Cordelia Dumbledore would fuss. Albus would run home and tell her of their encounter and Cordelia would put quill to parchment in seconds. She had a kind heart, the kindest Minerva had ever known, but Minerva hoped that she wouldn't write. Why had she told Albus that she was living with Poppy? The owl would be at the front door before Minerva got there, tapping it's strong beak on the door incessantly until the envelope was in Minerva's hand. The words would be heartfelt and meaningful, the carefully written hand would bring tears to Minerva's eyes and the guilt would once again be unbearable. Cordelia loved Minerva, she had never questioned it, but she didn't know who or what Minerva was. Her kindness, her ability to see only the good would forever cloud Cordelia's vision and if Minerva was the one who broke the clouds, she'd never be able to live with herself for hurting such a good soul.

It troubled Minerva, the letter she could see in her mind, as she made her way home but thankfully, as she passed through the front door there was no owl nor any sign that one had been. She could breath easy as she removed her coat and stood in the familiar hallway. The dark floor shone beneath her feet, the multi-coloured rag rugs sang to her in playful song and the crudely painted pictures hanging on the beige walls embraced her. She went straight into the sitting room, the most peaceful of all the rooms in the tiny white-washed cottage with it's wood burner on the far wall, the heavy green drapes at the window and the faded red velour sofas which were arranged haphazardly around the fire place.

 Poppy was seated at her desk, perched listlessly over a book, sighing loudly and shaking her head. Her bright red hair was loose, no doubt not yet brushed, and her wide face was make up free. Still in her nightgown with an open navy dressing gown pulled over her shoulders, Poppy slammed the book shut when she heard Minerva arrive, looked up and smiled.

"No parcels?" She asked. "I thought you were-"

"Damn it, I forgot," Minerva said, rolling her green eyes. "I forgot your books as well. I'm sorry."

"No matter. I'm just sorry about your wasted trip," she picked up her wand and with a dainty flick, the fire roared into life. "You must be tired, sit down, I'll make tea."

"I don't want to tear you away from your studies," Minerva said as she took a seat. "You have your exams next week."

"And when I pass, will you then agree to letting me deliver this baby?" Poppy called from the tiny blue and white kitchen at the back. She came in carrying a silver tea tray, gleaming so brightly, it seemed out of place in the little mis-matched cottage. "Or don't you trust me?"

"It's not a case of not trusting you - set it down there, I'll mother - it's a case of dignity. I don't want you to be seeing-"

"But letting a complete stranger do it is fine?" Poppy countered with an arched red brow.

"I would do it myself if I could."

"If only you had said that in the first place, then you wouldn't be-"

A cup skidded past Poppy's cheek and bounced from the wall.

"That's enough, I think," Minerva said tightly. "I'll think about it."

Poppy nodded triumphantly and sipped at her tea.

Should Minerva tell her about her encounter with Albus? She wanted to. She didn't want to keep secrets from her friend who had taken her in no questions asked. She trusted Poppy to keep it quiet, she just didn't know if she would read into it too much. Would telling her give it some significance that Minerva didn't want it to have? 

But it was significant. Minerva couldn't deny it. It was the first time she had seen him since the burial and then she hadn't been in the right mind to consider his presence properly. After the event, she had wondered just Albus had known where she was and what had happened. It worried her that he always seemed to know everything. 

"I saw Dumbledore," Minerva said quietly, taking a seat on the sofa and rubbing the bottom of her back. "In fact, he saw me." 

Poppy's jawed dropped. "You haven't seen him since the funeral. How did he know you were there today?" 

"I don't know." 

"What did he say? What did you say?" 

"I was bitter of course," pride was prominent in Minerva's tone. "Cold and hard. There is no other way to be is there?"

"So he obviously knows about the baby." 

"He's know about it since the funeral," Minerva sighed. "Perhaps I shouldn't of come back." 

"Don't be so stupid," Poppy said. "You shouldn't be alone, Minerva, it isn't good for you. You need to be with people who love you." 

"Person. The person who loves me." 

"I love you both," Poppy said earnestly. "You and our baby." 

"Our baby?" Minerva smiled. 

"Yes," Poppy nodded. "It will be just as much mine as it is yours."

Minerva burst into tears. How did she get so lucky as to have Poppy as a friend? Poppy, who was the life and soul of the party, who could dazzle and charm, who could have had her pick of friends? The best and luckiest day of Minerva's life had been when she was allocated the same dormitory as Poppy Pomfrey who had swept across the room and rolled into Minerva's heart forever. Poppy asked no questions and expected no explanations. She simply accepted Minerva, no matter what, even when Minerva had returned from another world, hopeless and grief-stricken, with nothing but a suitcase. Poppy had a future where as Minerva had nothing - she had thrown away any future she might have had because of her own vanity and stupidity. Poppy might have forgiven her for it but Minerva had yet to forgive herself. 

And now, Minerva was about to bring a baby into the world. The baby could arrive any day and it wasn't going to change just Minerva's life. Poppy was offering herself wholeheartedly and the love she would bare for the child would change everything for her as well. Minerva knew that Poppy understood this and was accepting it as gospel. She would never question Minerva's sudden intervention, never resent her for her choices. Poppy would always be Minerva's mainstay, her loyal companion, her love, her life. She was her sister. 

Poppy moved next to Minerva and put her arm around Minerva's thin shoulders. "You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive." 

"I know that," Minerva choked. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm blaming the pregnancy for the tears." 

Poppy laughed. "I promise not to tell anyone!" 

And they sat together, long into the evening, talking as only the dearest, sweetest of friends can do. 


	3. His Questions

"I'm telling you, Dumbledore, she doesn't want to see you!" 

"Please, Miss Pomfrey, I only wish-" 

"When are you going to realise that..." 

Poppy's irritated voice trailed off and Minerva sank further into her seat as if it would help to shield her more. It was Albus, of course. Barely twenty-four hours after they had met in Diagon Alley and Minerva had looked out of the kitchen window, up to her elbows in a bowl of soapy water, to see him making his way gingerly through the front gate. She instinctively ducked, hoping that Albus hadn't seen her, and went rushing into Poppy who was engrossed in her books, studying again. 

"It's him!" Minerva hissed, making sure to keep away from the windows. Her soaking wet hands dripped onto the floor. 

"Who is it?" 

"It's Albus!" 

"What, he's here?" 

"Yes! For God sake get rid of him while I hide!" 

Poppy marched to the door while Minerva scurried into the armchair in the furthest corner. She watched as Poppy opened the door just enough to nestle firmly in the gap. Her arms were crossed and her lose red hair bounced as she berated him. Neither of them wanted him there; Poppy didn't out of loyalty to her friend and Minerva was so angry with him she was surprised that she hadn't yet started spitting fire. How dare he just appear at their door? Did he expect them to welcome him in and offer him tea? Was he really that stupid or did his selfishness delude him so? 

Minerva waited, hoping that Albus would eventually give up but it had been ten minutes now and he and Poppy were just circling around the same argument. With heavy limbs, she got up and made her way to the front door, defeated once again. 

"If you don't turn around and leave within the next two seconds, I'll hex you to-" 

"It's alright, Poppy," Minerva sighed. "I'm here." 

"No, Minerva!" Poppy cried angrily. "He can't just push his way in-"

"It's fine. You go inside, I won't be long." 

Poppy left, shooting Albus a cold stare as she did and Minerva stood on the front step, pulling the door too behind her. "What do you want?" Her voice was full of disdain and she was glad. 

"She's looking through the curtain," Albus said. 

"What do you expect?" 

He shrugged. "I need to talk to you. Properly. I haven't had a chance since the funeral and yesterday you seemed in such a hurry. I hope that it wasn't to get away from me." 

"Of course it was!" His self-pity only grated on her thin nerves. "I have nothing to say to you. I don't want to see you or even be near you. I told you that-"

"But, at the church, you-"

"I was grieving!" She shrieked. "Whatever I said or did was not real! Are you such a fool as not to be able to understand that?" 

"There's no need to shout-" 

"Oh!" She shook her head exasperated. "I could bloody well swing for you!" 

"Please do," he said. "It would be better than this silence." 

Minerva ran her fingers through her dark hair. "What do you want from me? What do you want me to say? We have both made terrible, terrible choices. I'm trying to live with myself, I would suggest that you do the same." 

"Why is everything so final?" 

"Because it is," she whispered. She felt her heart breaking again but she would be damned if she let him see it. Her face was straight and cold, her green eyes aflame with a temper she had yet to master. "You need to accept that."

"I can't," he said pitifully, his voice thick. 

Minerva rolled her eyes. "You are a grown man. Learn to do it. I don't want anything more to do with you." 

"And Cordelia?" 

Her nostrils flared. "How dare you," she said, her voice dangerously low. "How dare you use that against me. I loved that woman like a mother. I betrayed her in every way a person can possibly be betrayed." 

"She doesn't know that." 

As she looked at him now, with his long face hanging down and his shoulders slumped, she wondered how it had ever happened in the first place. He was not who he claimed to be, what he claimed to be. He was human, just as they all were, made up of flesh and bone. There was something spectacular about him, even she couldn't deny that, but it did not make up for the very mortal traits he possessed. She had seen every inch of his soul and she had found that it wasn't very different from hers. She had known him, she had been in awe of him but he was just a man as any other. 

"Please, leave me alone," Minerva said, her voice softer. "I need to move on. I tried to run away but that only ended in disaster. I'm going to have a baby, Albus. A new life, a new start. I cannot carry all of this burden with me. You have to let it go." 

"But it was fine, up until that night." 

"It was never fine. Cordelia was always there." 

"You know about that arrangement," he countered, anger on the edge of his voice. "I explained all of that long before... no. It's something else. Something you aren't telling me and wouldn't tell me then - what is it? I have to know. What changed everything? What changed us?" 

"I won't explain," she said quickly. "Just leave it-" 

"No. I will not! What happened? You have to tell me, I-" 

She couldn't hear him any longer. She was spinning; spinning into the earth which had refused to swallow her up before, even when she had begged it too. She hadn't thought about it, couldn't think about it - the helplessness, the utter fear. She felt sick, she could feel it on her again, she could see it and she had screamed and screamed for Albus, anybody but nobody had come. She had been alone and unable to be saved, she had made the wrong choice again, trusted the wrong person. She was drowning, black water engulfed her as panic rose in her throat like two hands with a vice grip. 

She could feel it when Albus grabbed a hold of her arms. His blue eyes searched hers, his face pale and distraught. Her face was wet with tears, her mouth open to let out a scream that would not come. He was shaking her, shouting at her but she couldn't speak. 

Suddenly, Poppy was between them, ripping her from his grip and pushing him away, so hard he banged against the brick wall. "That is quite enough," she hissed. "What have you done to her?" 

"I need to know!" He cried desperately. "What happened, Minerva, you must tell me!" 

Poppy took one look at her face and by the look in her eyes, Minerva knew that Poppy could see what she was thinking about. Dear Poppy, she always knew. Minerva pleaded with her silently - 'Please don't let him know!' 

"Albus, you have to go. Now," Poppy ordered. "I don't care what you feel, Minerva needs to look after herself. You will be causing distress to the baby. God damn, it man, please leave!" 

"Should I come back?" He looked past Poppy and at Minerva. 

"No. Never," Minerva said and her soul shattered as the words left her mouth. 

She watched him leave. She watched him until he disappeared and there was nothing but a muddy lane to look at. "I still love you," she whispered so quietly that even Poppy didn't hear. The wind carried her words away and she wondered just where it would carry them to. 


	4. The Arrival

The pains began in the middle of the night. 

Minerva felt them in her sleep at first and wriggled about in the bed as much as her body would allow her. When she woke, she almost reached over for him. In the still darkness, with the soft summer's night breeze wafting gently through the window, she had for a moment thought that she was back there, with him. They had planned this. They had talked about it for hours, she with a knot of anxiety in her stomach, he with broadest of grins. How excited he had been, how enthralled! He had been robbed of this and so much more. 

When her hand felt nothing but an empty, cold pillow, she was brought back to reality. She was in Poppy's cottage, her home now, in the bedroom which Poppy had presented to her with such pride. Minerva swung her legs out of the bed and sat on the edge, her hands pressed hard into the mattress. The expected had arrived and yet it was still unexpected. She knew that it was far too early to call for Poppy and rouse her from her bed so instead she took a seat in the white wicker chair beneath window and stared at the stars, gritting her teeth as each pain came and sighing with relief as it melted away. 

How had she gotten here? How had she lost such control of her life? She wanted to blame the Riddle, she wanted that awful event to be the turning point but she knew it wasn't. It was her own actions which had brought herself here. When she thought of that time, those two hazy years when she had only felt the school girl sweetness of love and adoration, she could only scold herself. She had been old enough, mature and wise enough to have known better. She had ignored her mind and followed an untamed and naive heart thinking that it would make her, not ruin her. She could see in her mind's eye the image of Dumbledore, the image she had seen then and felt sick. Everything her short life had taught her should have made alarm bells scream but she had chosen to ignore them; she had chosen to look the other way. 

There was the young man asleep in a box, suffocated with thick earth. It had been raining that day and the ground had squelched beneath her feet. He was cold and alone, his life ended when all he had dreamed about was the new life that was about to be born. He had been so full of love, so capable of showing it and Minerva so desperately wanted him to be the one, in every sense of the word. He had deserved it. Now he was only grey flesh, a mortal who soul no longer graced the world. 

Somehow, she was sure it had been her fault. It had to be. Maybe she hadn't ran fast enough down the hill into town. Maybe she could have tried. Her wand had been hidden up her sleeve but... she shook her head. No magic could have brought him back. She could see him now, his body twisted and contorted, the grey eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open, the bright blood oozing from it. She could smell the smoke from the car, rolled over onto the low curb. She could see the shaking heads of the crowd, hear the whispers and prayers - 

"Why couldn't he be you?" She whispered just as the sky was turning pink and the birds began to chirp. Just as the water broke and the blood made her scream. 

*

Minerva hadn't realised how much she wanted the baby until the risk of death hoovered over it. Suddenly, with a power and anguish she had not felt before, she willed her life away just so it might take it from her. 

As she lay flat on the bed, torn in two from the pain and seeing nothing but red, the baby whose conception she had resented, who arrival she had dreaded became the only thing that mattered in her life. It was the first time she had felt any hint of motherly-instincts and suddenly, she was so full of them they overwhelmed her. Life simply could not go on if this baby did not live. It would have no meaning or purpose - it had to survive, it had to be healthy. Her ears were straining to hears it shrieking cries and when she finally heard them, it was like a chorus of angels had burst through the blue sky. 

Poppy wrapped it in a thick, fluffy towel, cooing over it as she did and with a triumphant grin she placed the bundle in Minerva's arms. As Minerva held it and traced it's screwed up little face so very gently with her finger, the world stopped moving. Time halted and all Minerva could see, could feel, was this tiny baby, whose perfect face was forever engrained in Minerva's mind. Her heart filled with such a love she felt as if she might drown in it. 

"Well, you gave us a fright, didn't you?" Poppy sang gently as she sat beside Minerva and smiled down at the baby. "But look how perfect you are." 

"Have you ever seen anything so wondrous?" Minerva whispered. "Just magical. He's beautiful." 

"Not a he," Poppy said. "You have a daughter, Minerva. And she's absolutely divine." 

A daughter. Something about Poppy's words sent a shiver of delight down Minerva's spine. She had a little girl. 

"Thank you, Poppy, for bringing her safe into this world," Minerva squeezed Poppy's hand. "I am indebted to you."

Never, in all her life, would Minerva be able to pay Poppy back for what she had done. 

Minerva had known love before. She had felt it with the depths of her very soul, the kind of love which scared and burned it's way onto you, a carving forever there, but never had she felt a love like it. This was a whole new love, the kind she would die for and more. The kind that would turn her world. It was her world. The baby was love personified, in this tiny bundle lived all the hope Minerva could ever have, all of the love and devotion she had never thought herself capable of. Nothing had ever seemed so precious, so fragile and yet so very dominating. Everything was clean and new, a new path to wander through happily and joyfully with this little girl always at her side. Minerva had not had any family for such a long time, save for Poppy, but this baby was her own, made of her own flesh, the very blood which came from her heart. 

"What are you going to call her?" 

Minerva shook her head. "I don't know. I really thought that it was going to be a boy. Then I would have named him Alphonsus, after my father." 

For a moment, Minerva considered naming the child 'Poppy' but decided against it as quickly as she thought about it. Poppy was an entity of her own and so was the baby, they shouldn't have to share an existence is such a way, it wasn't fair to either of them. She thought of her mother, Harriet, with her kind face and soft words but the name didn't fit the baby. Minerva wanted her to be bolder, more confident than her mother had been. She wanted the child to be full of fire and fierceness, determination. She wanted her to be just like Harriet's mother, Minerva's grandmother, Molly. 

"Molly," Minerva said. "Molly McGonagall." 

"Not Cole?" 

"No. She doesn't need the past clinging to her. Let her have my name, so that we may be a family." It was partly true, at least. 

Poppy opened her mouth to speak but a knock on the door sent both their heads reeling to the hallway. 

"Who on earth is that?" Poppy hastened towards the door. "I'll go and see to it. I won't be a minute." 

Minerva could hear the muffled voices when Poppy opened the door and had she not been so engrossed in gazing at Molly, she would have recognised the sweet voice that rose above the others like a choir song. She would have heard the footsteps on the stairs, three pairs of shoes which grazed on the wood, but she didn't notice, not until she heard them enter the bedroom and she looked up to see the Dumbledore's standing around her bed. 

Albus stood awkwardly, not looking at Minerva or the baby but gazing around the room, his bright blue eyes darting across the ceiling. Cordelia Dumbledore moved to Minerva's side, her beautiful face alight and her dark brown eyes soft and kind. She smiled at Minerva and Minerva could only smile back. Despite the shock of seeing them, Minerva could only ever smile at Cordelia. There was something entrancing about her, like an illusion that caught the corner of your eye. 

"I just had to see you! When Albus told me you were back, I couldn't wait!" Cordelia gushed, her plump cheeks a little flushed. Cordelia Dumbledore always spoke so fast and with such enthusiasm but every word was sincere.  "And we've come the day you had the baby! We didn't know! I've been so worry about you, such sadness in such a short time! And this is the baby, isn't she beautiful? Look Albus, isn't she just a darling?" 

Albus nodded in agreement but Minerva noticed that he didn't look. Cordelia frowned and Minerva knew that she had noticed it too. 

"I'm sorry that I didn't write," Minerva mumbled apologetically. "I haven't really seen or spoke to anyone except Poppy. I didn't feel... ready, suppose." 

"She's not really ready now," Poppy quipped defensively. She was standing at the other side of the bed, her face arranged in barely civil lines. 

"Of course but when you said that the baby had been born, I just couldn't help myself! How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Cordelia patted Minerva's cheek affectionately, as she always had. 

"Tired but elated," Minerva beamed. "I've never been happier." 

She saw Albus grimace a little, as if in pain. How could he know if he was being robbed or not? She didn't know herself. 

"We'll leave you in peace once I've had a hold of this beautiful baby," Cordelia bent down and scooped the child from Minerva's arms. 

Whilst Cordelia rocked the baby gently, Poppy stood poised to pounce, like a guard dog, her wide eyes baring into Albus. He pretended not to notice or to care, Minerva couldn't decide which, and Minerva couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. Only a little mind - he was just as guilty as she. Some might say that Minerva had paid the price but she wondered if Albus had paid more. Minerva knew who she was, Albus hadn't a clue who he was and that seemed a worse plight than Minerva's own. 

Cordelia kissed Minerva's forehead and quickly embraced Poppy before she left, a whirlwind of love and good wishes. She could not have known that actually, she had brought a storm with her, for as they were leaving, Albus turned, his eyes watering, and stole a quick glimpse of the baby and Minerva thought that she had never seen such pain so obviously written across a human face. 


	5. The Dumbledore's

When they arrived home to their beautifully maintained red-brick townhouse with gleaming sashed windows and bright blue front door, the Dumbledore's were uneasy. Something stood between Albus and his charming, light haired wife, something that Albus recognised himself but did not think Cordelia would know about. 

She removed her hat and coat, hanging them neatly in the entrance hall and for the first time in their years of marriage, did not immediately retire to the parlour room at the front of the house but turned left, through the archway and into Albus's cluttered study. Books and papers covered every dark surface of the room, little silver sweet pots sat by each chair and the worn green arm chairs were blotted with ink, old and new. Under the window, sat on a faded wooden side table, was a decanter, hall full and four chipped glasses which Albus would not let her replace. She reached for that decanter, poured them both a large helping and drained her glass with a skill and tolerance Albus hadn't been aware she had. She poured herself another before she passed a glass to him and sat down. 

Albus was nervous. Something told him that Cordelia was, for the very first time, about to speak her mind and he didn't know if could bare it. Never before had he been allowed to venture into her head; she kept her opinions to herself and was only ever cheerful and amicable with him. He sipped at his drink slowly, careful not to reveal the state of his nerves and sat down with an ease which he did not feel. 

"I'm ashamed of you, Albus," she said. Her tone, as always, was cheerful but that seemed to make it worse. 

Albus closed his eyes. "Why?" 

"How could you? With that poor girl?" 

"Cordelia, you know that our arrangement-"

"I'm not talking about that," she snapped. "I know well enough what the terms are, didn't I lay them down myself? No, I'm ashamed of you for breaking that poor girl's heart." 

"Is it so obvious?"

"You are a very easy man to fall in love with. It is not so easy to love you," she replied without a hint of sadness. Her long face was filled with sympathy, not aimed at him, he knew, but there was no sadness or longing.

They both knew that she didn't love him and they were glad of it. When they had first married, Albus had been worried that she would indeed fall in love with him, not because he thought himself a brilliant man, but because of their proximity. He had been concerned that he might fall in love with her because of it and complicate matters but luckily, all he had ever felt for his wife was admiration. He was fond of her as a friend, for he liked to think that they were friends, and they got on well. She was as keen minded and quick witted as he, she was comical and grounded. It would be hard for him not to admire her, especially when she bore herself with great height and dignity and did not dwell on the past. He had been lucky in finding in her a human who understood him completely and accepted their marriage for what it was - an arrangement, drawn up on mutual terms. She hadn't wanted love and she knew that he couldn't give it to her. She had never changed her mind and asked for it and for that, he was grateful. They had made for themselves a pleasant sort of life, one of mutual friendship and trust, and for many years it had worked perfectly. 

And then, love came into his life. Minerva came into his life. Raven-haired, emerald-eyed Minerva with her quick wit and sharp tongue, with her questioning mind, graceful body and practicality. Minerva, who with one smile, could render him speechless. 

"I'm not proud of myself," he said quietly. He could feel her eyes on him but couldn't look up to meet them. 

"Is that baby yours?" 

He was shocked at such a direct question. He was shocked that Cordelia knew anything about the short-lived love affair at all. "I don't know." 

"Have you asked?" 

"No." 

She inhaled sharply and he heard her gulp down the rest of her drink. She set it aside with a loud thud. "God damn it, this is a fine kettle of fish."

"How long have you known?" 

"About the two of you? I daresay longer than either of you have known. I could see it from a mile off, that's why I encouraged her to start her own life." 

"What, in the muggle world?" He asked, hurt that she might have known about Minerva's leaving before he did and might even have encouraged it. 

"No, I didn't see that coming. No, I encouraged her in her career at the Ministry, told her she might want to live nearer, how much easier it would be for her. Of course, she didn't listen - she only had ears and eyes for you. How could you let it get away from you like that? So far away that you two ended up..." 

"I forgot myself. She was there and I loved her, Cordelia. I love her still, I really do." 

"And what a lot of good that has done you both!" Cordelia exclaimed. "If you love her so, why did you lead her on and then break the affair? You could have divorced me, you've always known that you can leave any time you like." 

"I didn't break it," he said quickly. "She did. It was all so strange, so sudden. She was gone before I knew it." 

The night she had broken with him had been one of the most terrible, shocking and confusing nights of his life. He hadn't seen it coming - they had spent the night together the day before and just as he was finally being brave and was going to discuss their future, she was different. 

He found her amongst a flurry of trunks and suitcases, clothes packed, some ready to be packed. She darted about the room as if it were on fire, grabbing and throwing items into the cases, her face flushed, her hair stuck to her head. She cried out when she noticed him, her mouth open and her eyes wide with fear. 

"What are you doing?" He said. 

"Leaving," Minerva replied, carrying on with her task. 

He made his way towards her and gently caught a hold of her arm. She pulled away with a violent turn of her long body and fled to the other side of the room. "Don't touch me," she hissed, almost cowering. Her limbs shook. 

"You can't leave," he begged. "Not now."

"I have to go. Please, don't make this any harder. I've made up my mind, I have to go. Now!" 

"What's happened? Where have you been?" He moved closer to her, which made her shriek. 

"Don't come near me! Please, leave me be!" Her voice was strangled, thin and frightened. "I'm going! I can't be here, I have to get out, before-" 

"Before what? You're acting very strangely, Minerva." 

She went about the room, slamming each trunk and case shut. With a flick of her wand, they zoomed past them and down the stairs. "Let me pass, Albus." 

"But, I love you!" Such pathetic words but they were all he could say. 

"I can't-" And she was gone, pushing past him and leaving him starring at the empty doorway, incredulous and shocked. 

Now, as he thought about it, with Cordelia's soft brown eyes on him, he realised that something had been very deeply wrong with Minerva. Why had she moved away from him? Why had there been so much space between them suddenly, when for months, they had been trying desperately to be closer to each other? What had he missed? He was usually very astute and aware of everything but (and he shook his head) something had gone awry. What could have happened so suddenly, something so terrible that had forced Minerva to act so drastically? 

"If the baby is yours, you need to know," Cordelia said quietly. For the first time since their arrival home, her voice was soft and full of concern. "I don't know if she will tell you but you have to try. You don't want to be alone." 

"I'm not alone, I have you," he smiled gratefully. 

"I'm dying, Albus."

His glass crashed to the floor, the amber liquid spilling down his legs and onto his feet. "What?" 

"I'm dying," she repeated simply. "You know I've been ill, well, now it's confirmed. Months, days even. I'll not see another winter." 

"My dear, I am so sorry-" 

"It's fine," she smiled, her eyes glassy. "I've had my life. Much of it I owe to you and your kindness. I'm content." 

Albus rose from his seat and for the first time in the marriage, kissed Cordelia on the mouth, a kiss of affection and companionship. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered as he pulled away. 

"And I you, dearest Albus, my greatest friend." 

 


	6. A Story of Sam

It was one of those odd summer evenings where the air is thick and the light a dull, oppressive pink. The sun was slanting and it wore smoggy clouds, not white but not quite grey either, making the air stick to the skin and the plants shrink away from the foreboding light. The day has been too hot to bare, the sun had been too glaring, too yellow but somehow, the evening was worse. Minerva and Poppy sat outside in the little garden at the back of the cottage where the colours of the flowers were faded and even the bees had shrunk away, buried tightly in their nests. It was ominously quiet, no crickets chirped, no birds sang good-bye to the day with a sweet trill. It felt as if the women were the only living things left on this odd, unsettling evening. 

Poppy sat in her grey, metal chair, slumped with relief. Her exams were over, in a few weeks she would find out if she had qualified as a medi-witch and then so many doors of possibility would be thrown open for her. She had worked hard, harder than Minerva had ever seen her, and Minerva hoped that Poppy would pass. She deserved to be rewarded for the late nights and even earlier mornings during which she watched as Poppy became lost in text book after text book. If Minerva was completely honest though, she was worried about the results. When Poppy passed (and Minerva was sure that it was when, not if) then Poppy could make a new life for herself, travel the world and build a career. She might want to leave Minerva and rightly so, and Minerva would be left behind alone. Minerva hadn't been without Poppy in months and losing her would be like losing a limb. But Minerva would never hold her back. No, if Poppy decided to go, Minerva would congratulate her and wish her every success and she would mean it whole-heartedly. Poppy had already given so much, Minerva would never take anything from her. 

They had fallen into a routine, the kind, Minerva supposed, that new parents fell into. Each of them was attuned to Molly's cries; they could tell if she was hungry, wet or simply fussing. They took it in turns to get up in the night with the baby, despite Minerva's protests, and both walked about with the new-parent dark circles under their eyes. It was an unusual sort of bliss, unconventional, but it was their bliss and they had made it together. They discussed weaning techniques, toothing solutions and the like until neither of them could keep their eyes open and they retired to their beds, both keeping their doors open so that they could listen out for Molly. Minerva knew just how lucky she was to have Poppy and only hoped that someday, Molly would realise that too. 

Now, the child was fast asleep, the window of her little room sat directly open them, wide open so that they listen out for her. A pretty, hand-painted tea tray sat between them, with two matching cups and saucers and a tea pot. They were on their third cup, both reluctant to go inside because of the heat. They were waiting for the day to end, waiting to see the black inky sky above them before they admitted defeat. 

Minerva watched as Poppy began to fidget, pressing her lips together as she did when she was deep in thought. Minerva could see the cogs turning in her wide, blue eyes and Minerva knew what she was thinking about. It wasn't the first time that Minerva had seen that look aimed at her but this was the first time that Minerva was willing to lay the thoughts to bed. Perhaps it was the heat which had taken the fight out of her, or perhaps it was the baby which slept upstairs which had evoked a love in her she had never known before. 

"I didn't tell you about, Sam before I left because I couldn't. I didn't know about Sam until I got there," Minerva said simply. "When I went home, I was expecting him to have married and moved on. I don't think that he was waiting for me as such...

"He was shoeing a horse when I entered the barn. I love the smell of barns, don't you? The hay, the metal, it smells like the country. Sam was sitting on a stool, hard at his task and when I said, "Hello, Sam," he dropped his tools before he even looked up. Later on he told me that he smiled when he heard my voice and only turned his head to look at me when he had enough willing to stop. He looked exactly the same expect his skin was a little darker, his hands a little harder, but his brown hair was still combed to one side and his matching eyes were still so full of kindness and mischief and sweetness.'

'"Minerva, it's good to see you!" He said and he was up with his arm around my shoulders before I knew it. I was worried that he might resent me after breaking up the engagement but he looked genuinely pleased to see me. That's the kind of man he is - was- he didn't know what a grudge was to hold it. He greeted me like an old friend and we spoke for hours. He told me that he ran the farm because his father had died; he took me to my parents house and squeezed my hand and whispered: "I'm still so sorry about them." He was the one who fetched the doctor, when the typhoid caught hold and my mother refused to used magical medicine. It was as if she knew that my Dad was going to die and she didn't want to live without him. It was Sam who sat with me through the night and went and told the neighbours to save me the hardship.'

'Anyway, he put me up in his house and the next morning, as he dished up breakfast, I said "Would you still want to get married?" And he shook his head and said: "No, there's not been any girl I like as much as you." Laughing, I replied: "I meant to me, Sam. Would you still want to get married to me?"' 

'I regretted it when I said it. Only because it seemed so unfeeling, especially because the last engagement off. But my Sam grinned and nodded. We were married within two weeks, I think he bribed the vicar to forgo the banns and suddenly I found myself a wife. I was happy, Poppy, safe and I could forget about everything that happened here. Sometimes I wonder if muggles have it better than us - a simpler time, living in ignorance. He was happy too, I think, especially when I told him about the baby - he was delighted! He swept me up in the air and span me around, cheering as he did. He would have made a brilliant father to Molly, I don't doubt it.' 

'I finally told him I was a witch. I decided that I had too because the baby might show signs of it early. It was better to prepare him. I remember my heart being in my mouth as I told him and do you know what he said? He said: "I know. I've always known there was something magical about you. You've only confirmed my suspicions." And then, we went to bed together and it was the last time we did and I just wish I had more memory of it but they are already starting to fade.'

'He died the next morning. I said goodbye to him and watched him as he whistled his way down the lane. He was going to get a newspaper. He was standing on the pavement when the car hit him, or so I'm told. The driver lost control and went swerving up the curb. He was crushed between the car and the stone wall of the bakers behind him. When Mrs Honeyman from next door came panting up the hill, shouting for me, crying that Sam had been knocked down, I grabbed my wand and raced to the high street. A crowd had already gathered, I could hear the ringing bell of an ambulance in the distance, and I pushed my way through, really believing that my magic might be able to help him. He was already dead. All that life, all the love and hope he had to give, was trickling down the gutter in front of my eyes." 

Poppy said nothing for a long moment as Minerva wiped away her tears. Then she drew in a long, deep breath and asked: "Could you have been happy with him for the rest of your life?" 

"I would have liked the chance to make a go of it. To try at least," Minerva replied quietly. 

"Molly isn't his daughter, is she?" Poppy declared softly. Tentatively. "I could tell from the moment you looked at her. You wanted her to be his but there was disappointment in your face." 

Minerva shook her head. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. "She isn't Sam's and you're right, I wanted her to be. I don't know how I know that but I just do. She isn't a Cole." 

"Is she a Dumbledore?" 

Minerva's pale bottom lip began to tremble. "I think-" the words caught in her throat and her chest felt tight. "I think there is more chance of her being a Riddle." 


	7. Minerva's Confession

Minerva's words hung between her and Poppy for weeks. 

Poppy hadn't asked any further questions but she thought about what Minerva had said all of the time. The whispers of Riddle had turned into foreboding shouting - Riddle's power and purpose was well known, his cruelty and evil feared like no other. Muggle borns had already began to tremble and Poppy had heard whispers of flights in the night and families disappearing. It was almost enough for her to mention Dumbledore, for he would know more than anyone about what was going on, but since her admission, Minerva had become quiet and pensive, on the edge of a breakdown, and Poppy knew that mentioning him might send him over the edge. 

To the untrained eye, Minerva seemed no different. She was still as stubborn, determined and sharp tongued as usual. She still possessed her dry sense of humour which would have Poppy in fits of laughter all evening but to Poppy, who knew her better than anyone, Minerva had changed. It seemed as if by finally saying the words, Minerva had come to realise that Riddle being Molly's father might be a reality; a reality which Minerva hadn't accepted. Poppy knew that Minerva worried for the child because Poppy did as well. There was always the chance that Riddle would get wind of the child's birth and put two and two together. If he did, he might come looking for Molly, and Minerva as well, as destroy both of their lives. 

Poppy often found herself looking into the face of the child, searching for any traces of the boy that they had gone to school with. From what she could remember, Tom Riddle had been a pale, sullen faced boy with dark hair and blue eyes. Molly's hair colour seemed to change week by week; when she was born it had seemed light and almost blonde, at a few months old it had darkened a little to auburn and now, it seemed to be darkening more. But, Minerva had dark hair, the darkest Poppy had ever seen and whether the child was Riddle's or Dumbledore's, the dark hair could be from her mother. The blue eyes were the main issue - Molly did indeed have blue eyes, bright clear ones but there were flecks in them which hinted at another colour and besides, weren't all babies born with blue eyes? Wasn't that a well known fact? It looked as if the question of Molly's paternity would not be answered by looks alone. 

They might have to look at temperament as Molly grew older. The thought made Poppy shiver. Would this darling baby, whom Poppy loved as if she were her own, become cruel and calculating one day? Would they catch her with dead animals hidden in her room? Would she be a bully at school? It didn't seem plausible but, Riddle must have been an innocent baby once. Were people born evil or did experience make them that way? 

Sometimes, Poppy couldn't bare the thought of it. She couldn't think of Molly growing up to be like that man but if Riddle was the father, there was always the chance of it. 

Poppy had thought (or had she hoped?) that Dumbledore had saved Minerva in time. The presents laced with the potion which had warped Minerva's mind had been discovered by Albus. She had assumed that that was why Minerva had fallen in love with Albus - because he had saved her. And then Poppy remembered that Albus had discovered it in time, it was what happened after that had sealed Minerva's fate and possibly Molly's. No one could have saved her from that. 

Despite all of that, they both continued to dote on the child. How could they not, especially now when she offer them a gummy smile as she lay looking up at them from her cot? Minerva, whose mind wandered away from her in the quiet of the night, loved her no matter where she came from. She was a gift, only to be treasured and adored, and when Minerva looked at her, she didn't see a Riddle or a Dumbledore. She saw a McGonagall, for that was what she was, no matter what. She was Minerva's own and always would be. 

Yes, Minerva was troubled by thoughts of the future but they never got in the way of how she felt about her daughter. She'd be damned if they would bring any cloud over Molly's childhood. Minerva was determined to do her best to create a loving, stable family unit which would eventually be a huge part of Molly's soul. 

But a thought other than Riddle bothered Minerva the most. What if, by the grace of God, the child was a Dumbledore. If she couldn't be a Cole, and Minerva was certain that she wasn't, Minerva wanted her to be a Dumbledore. if she was, however, should she let Albus be a part of their lives? She didn't want to deprive Molly of a father, nor Albus the chance to be one, but she didn't want to cause any grief to Cordelia Dumbledore either. As it wasn't a certainty, was the risk worth it? And what if she did introduce Albus as a father and it turned out that he wasn't? How would that affect the girl? 

It was all so complicated. Minerva had never expected her life to be full of complications - that was the beauty of naivety she supposed. Nobody expects their life to be complicated but it usually always is. When Minerva thought of herself as a mother, it seemed to simple because the love came so easily to her, but when she thought of Molly as a whole, a mother's love didn't seem enough. What had she to give to the child except an unknown paternity and a life full of questions? How would she ever begin to explain to the girl? How would Molly ever be able to understand, let alone forgive? 

For now it was easy whilst Minerva was Molly's world but time ran away and soon Molly would be a child, a teen, an adult, full of questions, full of confusion. 

And then, as Summer turned to autumn and a crisp chill hung in the evening air, Minerva received the letter that made things worse. 

"There's an owl at the kitchen window," Poppy said, indicating her head towards the kitchen. She was sat on the sofa, winding Molly, who kept tilting her head back and smiling up at her aunt with delight. 

"It might be your results!" Minerva smiled. "Give me the baby, you should hold the letter first." 

"No," Poppy shook her head. "They aren't due for another three days. Besides, it's too late for that." 

Minerva recognised the owl as soon as she saw it. A beautiful barn owl with amber eyes as big as a penny piece and a smooth shining coat. It was the Dumbledore owl. 

"I told him not to contact me," she muttered as she opened the window to let the bird in. 

It dropped the letter on the counter and clicked it's beak gratefully as Minerva tickled it's chin before it flew away with a great swoop of it's wings. She tore open the letter irritably, swearing under her breath as she did but as she read the looped cursive, she gasped and screwed the letter up in her shaking hand. 

"I have to go," she declared, her heart fluttering. "It's Cordelia - she's dying!" 

"What? How?" 

"I don't know - Albus has said that she has asked for me. I need to go quickly, he says, the end is near- oh!" She caught her breath. "Are you alright with, Molly?" 

"Of course! Go, go! I'll wait up for you!" 

"Thank you!" Minerva shouted over her shoulder as she hurried through the front door. Once she was through the gate, she apparated immediately and looked up to find herself outside of the Dumbledore house. 

It had always been such a pretty thing to look at. Thought the brick house was quite conventional, it was the gardens which took Minerva's breath away. The flowers always seemed to be in bloom; lavender, roses, dahlias, peonies, all such wonderful bright colours of mauve, yellow, pink, orange and white. They were so tentatively cared for, so full of love and devotion. Cordelia had a beautiful and rare touch. 

They and their carer had made her feel welcome almost instantly. Minerva remembered how she had felt like an intruder when she had first arrived with nothing but a trunk and a sob story. She had been so nervous to enter the world of Albus Dumbledore and his wife but Cordelia had embraced her and kissed her cheek and Minerva felt at ease straight away. From the very beginning Minerva had been in awe of the woman who floated about in lavender skirts. The swish of them as she moved, the sound of them skimming along the wooden floors had quickly become Minerva's greatest comfort. 

There was no feeling of comfort now, as Minerva knocked on the door and Albus answered it. His skin was grey, his eyes red and tired. Behind him, candle light flickered giving a sickly red glow to the white walls. Cordelia was not yet dead but already her wonderful spirit which filled the house was flowing away. 

A look of relief flushed over Albus's face as he saw Minerva. "I'm so glad that you came. I was worried that you might not read the letter once you recognised my writing...Thank you." 

"Don't thank me, Albus," Minerva whispered. "Where is she?" 

"In the music room. Her favourite room in the whole house," his voice was thick. 

"I'll go to her now," Minerva said. She patted his arm in the hope that it might give some comfort and made her way to the back of the house. 

During the two years that Minerva had called the Dumbledore's house home, she had only been in the music room three times. It was situated off of the formal living room, closed off by beautiful french door and hidden by crisp, white nets. The walls were papered in very pale lilac and were covered with shelves which held potted flowers. A bright blue round rug sat in the centre of the shinning floor and floor to ceiling windows let in the pale sunlight. Before it had been turned into a sickroom, the music room had been filled with trinkets and sweet smelling candles and a little white birdcage sat in the corner, the bright yellow canaries which had occupied it had sung their sweet song whilst Cordelia sung with them. 

Now, a great white bed stood in the middle of the room where a piano used to be, the trinkets were gone save for a few which were scattered over a little round bedside table and the birds were no where to be found. Cordelia looked like a little doll in the bed, perched up by a number of plump pillow. Her long blonde hair sat about her shoulders and her beautiful face was gaunt and full of sickness. She smiled when Minerva entered, holding out her hand which Minerva took enthusiastically before sitting carefully at her side. 

"I'm so glad that you've come," Cordelia said. She kissed Minerva's hand lightly. "I so wanted to see your face." 

"Why didn't you send for me sooner?" Minerva said, her throat dry and her eyes threatening tears. "I didn't even know that you were ill... what happened, Cordelia?" 

Cordelia shrugged. "It's my time, Minerva. We all have one."

"What will I do without you?" 

"Oh, my dear, you haven't needed me for a long time now. You are a beautiful, wonderful soul who knows her own mind. You're a mother now." 

Minerva quickly wiped away the tears that were falling down her face. "I'll always need you, Cordelia. And I'm not as wonderful a soul as you might think. Oh!" Minerva covered her face with her hands. Was this a time to reveal all to her? Should she let the woman know how Minerva had betrayed her? She wanted Cordelia to die in peace but she didn't want to continue to lie to her. Cordelia deserved to know the truth so that she may hate Minerva, as she deserved to do, and order Minerva from the room, from the house. How could Minerva let their last moment together be a lie? "I've done such wrong!" 

"Oh, child," Cordelia squeezed Minerva's arm. "Don't torment yourself so. I know what is between you and Albus and my feeling haven't changed towards you. Nothing you could do could ever change them." 

Minerva should have been relieved but instead, she was simply disgusted with herself. "If you know that, then you know that I married a man whose love I knew I could not return. You see? I am a terrible person. I've lied to you, to Sam..." 

"Did he know that you didn't love him?" 

Minerva nodded, unable to look the woman in the face. She was a coward. 

"Then you didn't marry him under false pretences did you? To take a man you do not love and for that to be understood by your husband, well... it is not a decision one makes lightly," Cordelia's voice was soft, full of sympathy and understanding. 

"I took advantage of your kindness. I came into your life and ruined the harmony within it. I'm so sorry, Cordelia, so very sorry... I wish that I could make it up to you but now it's too late! I don't deserve any kindness from you!" Minerva wept. 

"Love is a very difficult thing to find. Once found, you should hold onto it, no matter what the cost." 

"You're wrong," Minerva shook her head. "I fell in love with another woman's husband. A woman who took me in and loved me." 

"But you knew that our marriage was a formality. You know why Albus married me?" 

"I know it's an arrangement but I don't know why. Albus never told me and I never asked." 

Cordelia smiled fondly. "Albus is such a gentleman. Yes, he makes mistakes but his core is only full of goodness and self sacrifice. Albus married me because I was in the family way. I made a very bad choice, when I was your age and when I had no where to go, Albus took me in. He gave up his life for me and never once made me feel as if I owed him a debt. The child was stillborn and Albus could have ended it there but he didn't. He was a man of his word," she sighed deeply. "I have taken up enough of his life. You should have the rest."

"Me?" Minerva shook her head. "No. I couldn't be with him now. I am no longer the person that he fell in love with." 

"I won't play match maker, I haven't the time," Cordelia laughed. "And anyway, people must form their own paths to each other."

"There is no path for us, not anymore," Minerva said sadly. 

"There's always room for it, someday," Cordelia patted Minerva's cheek. "I must rest now, darling Minerva and you must go home to your daughter. What sunshine she will bring to your life! It's a comfort to me, knowing that you will feel such happiness for the rest of time. I suppose that this is goodbye." 

How could Cordelia look at her own death with such dignity, such acceptance? Didn't she realise how horribly unfair it was, that she, who was never been anything but good her whole life, was now waiting for it to slip away? 

"I love you," Minerva whispered and she bent down to kiss the woman's forehead. "Thank you, for everything you have given me. Sweet dreams." 

Minerva took one final look at the face she adored and fled from the room, crying and shaking. Albus was waiting outside and Minerva flung herself into him, sobbing on his shoulder. She felt his arms around her instantly and the feeling of safety they brought only made her sob harder. The cracks in her heart were torn open again, like icy wounds, and Minerva cried until there were no more tears, just great dry heaving sobs. 

"Oh, Albus, what will we do without her?" She looked up at him, still in his arms and saw that he too was crying silently. 

"I don't know, Minerva. I just don't know," his head was shaking and his voice cracked as the tears fell him his face. 

She buried herself deeper into his arms as his grip became tighter and they sobbed together, mourning the loss of the sweetest life that they had ever known. 


	8. The Black Owl

Minerva didn't attend Cordelia Dumbledore's funeral. From what she read about it in the paper, it had been a wise choice. Hundreds of people gathered together to say farewell to a woman who had no doubt touched all of their lives in some way. Minerva's presence would have only been a distraction - the of the words that should have been used up on Cordelia would have been used on Minerva instead. As the youngest animagus registered in God knows how many years, Minerva was a well known face. When she was eighteen, she was horrified to find that her picture had made the front page of the Daily Prophet and since then, everyone knew who she was. Unlike Albus, however, Minerva's little fame was brought on by intrigue; people stared at her as they would a caged animal in a zoo and forget about her as soon as she gone. Minerva wished that they would just forget about her altogether. 

Within a week of the funeral, Albus had packed up the house and moved into Hogwarts permanently. She hadn't heard from him since. Two years later, he was now headmaster. Minerva heard all about him still from Poppy - she had taken the job of medi-witch the year before, after causing a fight with the matron at St Mungo's. Minerva didn't know all of the details but she gathered that Poppy had ignored instruction to save somebody's life and the old woman hadn't taken kindly to being disobeyed. Poppy, whose temper was like Minerva's in most way only a little less articulate, had stormed out of the hospital and never returned. The job at Hogwarts had come at just the right time and off she went, with a heavy heart, and left Minerva and Molly alone. 

Minerva missed her terribly but found she had little time to think about it. At two years old, Molly was a handful - a sweet, kind natured one, but a handful no less. She was a chubby little thing,with a wide round face, dark eyes and unruly red hair. Poppy always said that the colour reminded her of Albus but she was wrong; Minerva's brother, Michael, had had hair the exact shade as Molly's. She was an active little girl, who liked nothing more than to tear around the garden and rolling amongst the grass. Each morning she woke up and Minerva would find her standing by the back door, trying to get the latch open. "I just love out," Molly would say with a toothy grin. 

Summer term had just started. Poppy had left the day before (with much difficulty as Molly had to be prised off of her leg) and Minerva was only beginning the first of many weeks alone. She didn't mind much when the sun was shining for Molly kept her occupied with her endless games and races but when it rained, as it so often did in the English countryside, the days seemed to stretch. The evenings were the worst, when Molly was tucked up in bed and Minerva had nothing to do except sit in front of a dying fire with a book. As much as she loved to read, she missed the clatter that Poppy made as she kept herself busy, or the little interruptions she would make by repeating her newest bit of gossip. 

Minerva sighed as she watched Molly tumble to the floor and roll down the little hill of the garden, giggling as she did. The sun was beginning to fall and soon the night time routine would begin. 

"Come along now, darling," Minerva called out to her daughter. "It's time for dinner. We can play again tomorrow." 

Molly jumped up and tottered towards Minerva. As she grabbed hold of Minerva's hand, she said: "Mummy, will the owl big there in the morning?" 

"What owl, Molly?" 

"Black one. It's there when I wake up. I like it," Molly chattered. 

"Everyday?" 

"Yep. I've got a present from it. A feav- feavver?" 

"Darling, I don't think -" And Minerva stopped, a cold fear rising in her throat. "A black owl?" 

"Yep," Molly sang. 

Minerva felt sick. Shaking, she half-dragged Molly into the house, sat her in an armchair and smiled as reassuringly as she could. She could feel the colour drain from her face, she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. "Just... Just sit there for me, Molly. Mummy is going upstairs for one minute. Don't move," Minerva half sobbed. She raced upstairs into Molly's room at the back and lifted the pillow from her little bed. 

There it was. A great, shining black feather, smooth and glorious. Gingerly, Minerva picked it up and upon looking at it closely, quickly dropped it again with a gasp. She was terrified. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, bile rose in her throat and her legs threatened to cave in from under her. She felt helpless again, surrounded and suffocated. How had he found her? How did he know? 

Minerva fought hard to take control of her mind which was racing away from her. If it went, then she wouldn't be able to do anything useful and she needed to protect Molly. But how could she do that without frightening her? She couldn't drag the girl into the darkness and away from her home, it would traumatise her. But they couldn't stay here alone. God only knew how long the owl had been coming and sitting on the window sill, enticing Molly. Today it was a black feather that it gave her, tomorrow it could be anything. Minerva shivered. 

She wasn't sure why she was so scared. What happened before would never happen again but she knew that Molly could be used as bait. Minerva would do anything to keep that child safe and she wasn't sure that she had the same capabilities as say, Albus. 

Albus! 

Minerva flew back downstairs and smiled as best she could. "Would you like to see some very special magic, darling?" 

Molly clapped her hands. "Yes!" 

A glowing silver cat emerged from Minerva's wand. "Albus, please come," she said, hating herself for sounding so desperate. But she was desperate. Molly watched with wide eyes and her mouth open in an 'O' as the cat ran about the room and out of the window. 

"Pretty, Mummy," she said and all Minerva could do was smile sadly. 

Would Albus come? After everything she had said to him, would he bother? She wouldn't blame him if he didn't - after all, she knew she wouldn't. No, she was too stubborn and would ignore Albus to prove a point. She just hoped that he was a better person than her. if he did ignore her, she wasn't sure what she would do. Then again, was it right for her to rely on Albus in a time of need when she had so bitterly broken away from him? 

The knock on the door made her jump out of her skin. She told Molly to be quiet and crept into the hallway. "Who is it?" She called with more courage in her voice than she felt. 

"It's me, my dear," said Albus. 

When Minerva opened the door and saw him stood there, his face patient but full of concern, she could have cried with relief. "Oh, Albus! It's him, he's been here! You have to help me, please, he can't be here, I can't-" 

"Calm yourself, Minerva," his voice was gentle. "Who has been here?" 

"Tom!" She buried her face in her hands. "He's found us... he's found, Molly!" She cried and threw herself into his arms. 

"You're safe, I'm here," Albus murmured and he kissed the top of her head. He regretted it immediately. Her hair smelled of violet and it brought him back to that night, the night he thought about every minute of every day, the night he dreamt about. She felt the same in his arms, it felt as if she was meant to be there, that she belonged there and he felt the same longing fill his body. How he loved her, how he wanted to be with her! If only he had been a good enough man, if only she could find some forgiveness for them both, how happy they would be! 

"I have to get away," Minerva said urgently, pulling herself from him. Her green eyes were blazing and Albus knew that she had regained composure. "I have to go - now." 

"Let's not do anything rash," Albus smiled reassuringly. "Let me take you both to Hogwarts for a couple of days at least. You can lodge with Poppy and in the morning, when everybody is well rested we can make a plan." 

Minerva squeezed his hand. "Thank you. I'm very grateful for your help." 

"I'll always be there to help you," he said. 'I love you,' he wanted to add but instead bit his tongue. 

He did love her. Completely. But he knew that wasn't enough anymore. 


	9. The Final Break

"Auntie!" Molly cried delightedly, stretching out her arms to Poppy who stood somewhat bewildered in her sitting room. 

It was nearing midnight and Poppy had been drifting off to sleep when Minerva, Molly and Albus had arrived. She knew that something had happened. She knew that Minerva was shaken to the core by the way her pale face was set in unsure lines. Poppy felt her own heart begin to flutter with worry as she ushered them in. Molly wanted to be held and so Poppy scooped her up and kissed her cheek whilst she watched Minerva as she sank into the nearest chair, her face blank and overwhelmed. Albus stood by the dead fireplace, his brow furrowed with concern, his bright blue eyes never leaving Minerva. 

An awkwardness hung in the air between Minerva and Albus. Desperation flooded from the wizard, so strong that Poppy felt it. She suddenly felt very sorry for the man - the love he held for Minerva had never been obvious and he had obviously rushed to Minerva's side at the first sign of peril. Poppy didn't dislike the man, he was decent enough, but she was guarded around him for Minerva's sake. Whatever happened between them was of no business of Poppy's but she would always be loyal to Minerva and so, Poppy kept her distance from the Headmaster. Personally, she thought that Albus would be a good choice for her friend. They suited each other well and it was very clear that they loved each other. Poppy knew why Minerva would not give into her feeling and embark on a relationship with him but that didn't mean that she agreed with her reasons. She wanted nothing more than for Minerva to be happy and she felt that Albus could make her just that. She only wished that Minerva would finally accept it. 

"I want to know what's happened," Poppy said. "But first, I'll put Molly to bed whilst you two talk." 

Albus waited for Molly and Poppy to disappear into the tiny side bedroom and close the door. He was aware that the child might easily become frightened and he didn't want to be the cause of that. Now that he and Minerva were alone, he was at a loss at what to say. It was the first chance they had had to finally discuss what had happened between them, to frankly converse about their feelings but, as always, the timing was off. Something had rattled Minerva. He could see it in her face and he noticed that her hands were still trembling. He wanted to hold them, to make them still and kiss them. He wanted to tell her that as long as he was alive, he would never let anything happen to her but now wasn't the time. 

"Why would Tom Riddle be trying to find you?" Albus finally asked. "After the love potions, I would have thought that my threats were enough to keep him away." 

Her hanging head snapped up. Her green eyes were wide and her mouth was pursed as if trying to stifle a scream. Albus watched a thousand thoughts flipped across her face and her skin became grey. With her pleading eyes, she was trying to tell him something, he was sure. He could almost see the words caught in her throat and he desperately tried to understand. It was the first time she had shown any willing to reveal to him the very thing she kept closest to her heart and he was determined to find out what it was. He searched her face and saw only pain and shame, shame he thought, she carried because of him. But on looking closer, he released that it wasn't the shame he thought she felt - it was tinged with absolute fear. 

And then, it was gone. Minerva's face resumed it's normal pallor and Albus knew that he had missed his chance. Her mind had caught up with her heart and now she was once again in complete control of herself and able to hide whatever it was he didn't know. There was no reading her now - she sat with her back straight, her long elegant legs tucked one in front of the other and the thin hands were arranged neatly in her lap. The spark of wit and pride was back, shining in her emerald eyes. She was back. For a moment, Albus had caught a glimpse of the vulnerable Minerva he had never known but now, the capable, self-controlled Minerva McGonagall was before him and he would have his work cut out if he wanted an answer to his questions. 

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I was thinking about...Molly," she said, her voice smooth and calm. 

"No you weren't. You were thinking about Riddle," Albus countered. "I know you, Minerva." 

"I hope to God that you don't," she snapped. "But you're right, of course I was thinking about Tom. What am I going to do Albus? I cannot go back now." 

"He's a dangerous man," Albus thought allowed. 

"Yes. I'm quite aware of that," Minerva said tightly. 

"I'm sorry that I couldn't work it out quicker," Albus said. "I really am. I should have known why there was a change in you but I thought, I thought maybe it was the grief. Your father had just died and I thought that your odd state was because of that." 

"How did you finally work it out?" 

"Something that you said. As you walked past me to go and meet him again, you said: 'I can't remember falling in love with him, you know. I remember meeting him at Diagon Alley. There was nothing but before we parted, I suddenly felt as if I couldn't let him go.' I'll never forget the words." 

"I'm surprised that's what did it," Minerva said evenly. "Because you can suddenly fall in love with someone. You can wake up one day and find that you love them." 

"But, if the feelings should come to you in one fell swoop, you don't forget when it was, do you?" Albus countered. "I've found that you can forget a time when you  _didn't_ love someone but not  _when_ you fall in love with them." 

"And that's how you knew," Minerva whispered thoughtfully. "He was so... angry. So furious to have been caught." 

"How do you know that?" Albus asked. "You weren't there!" 

"Oh, I... I just assume," she lied but not well enough. She waved a hand and shook her hand. "No more questions, please, Albus. I need to make a plan." 

"Why don't you just stay here? Poppy wouldn't mind and I-" 

"No," Minerva bit. "No. Not here, not with..."

"Not with me," Albus said sadly. "But why?" 

"Because...Oh! Just because, Albus!" Minerva jumped from her seat and began to pace the room. 

"I love you, Minerva but at this moment I am more concerned about yours and Molly's safety." 

"Molly should not be of your concern," Minerva hissed defensively, ignoring his casual declaration of love for fear that she might lose her resolve. "She is my child to worry about." 

"I know that but a person might still worry for you," Albus retorted. "Especially if..."

"If what?" 

"Minerva, I -" he was about to lose his gall. This was the moment to ask, he knew. He had waited two long years for the chance to ask but now, he was scared. Did he want the child to be his? "I have to ask, is Molly mine?" 

Minerva blanched. She hadn't expected that question. When Molly had first been born, she had been waiting for Albus to ask but as the months slipped by and he said nothing on the subject, she thought that he had assumed that Molly was Sam's daughter. She had no answer for him. Part of her had resigned to the fact that Molly had been fathered by Riddle. Of course, she had no proof, but over the past few years she had found that bad events rolled into one another. It was too much to dream that Molly was Albus's daughter. In her heart, Minerva wanted nothing more than to know that their union of love had resulted in the little girl but she was practical enough to know that the chances were slim. 

She was nervous. She couldn't answer his question truthfully without telling him everything and she couldn't do that. Her shame and her weakness would be known to him and she wasn't willing to allow that to happen. But could she lie to him? If she told him no, then she might be denying him the chance to be a father; if she told him yes, then he would raise a daughter who wasn't his own. She knew that Poppy would would advise her to tell him the truth but it was easier said then done. Minerva could just imagine his reaction and he might put himself if danger. If something should happen to him, because of her, how would she ever forgive herself? 

"I think that I deserve an answer," he said. His voice was low and a little threatening, just what Minerva expected. He was a man of honour and he would want to do the right thing should the child be his. 

For the sake of them all, Minerva realised that she must tell him a half-truth. 

"I can't answer your question, Albus," she said quietly. "Because I don't know." 

"So it's between me and your... your husband," he confirmed aloud, the word 'husband' bitter on his tongue. 

She nodded but said nothing, not trusting herself to speak. Guilt filled her and made her cheeks flush. 

"If you don't know then please, let her be mine!" He cried urgently, springing towards her and grabbing the tops of her arms. "Please! I don't care if she's mine or his... just let us be a family. We have a chance to have a wonderful life together. You know that I love you, I would do anything for you. You are my life, Minerva, please let me show you. I can't carry on hiding it everyday when all I want is to tell you how wonderful, how extraordinary you are! My darling please..."

He tried to kiss her and Minerva felt the familiar thrum of her heart as he did so. She was tempted to let him for she couldn't think of anything she wanted more in that moment than to kiss him again but... she was a girl no longer. No longer was she a girl so easily swayed by the love she felt, she no longer believed that love resolved everything. 

She turned her head away from him. "No, Albus, please," she whispered. 

He let go of her straight away and turned from her. She could feel his anger crackle between them. 

"Why are you denying us this? What have I done that is so unforgivable?" He roared. "If it's about my late wife than you should know that she knew about us and in a strange way, she wanted us to take our chances and be happy!" 

"I know, I know!" Minerva cried. "She told me. It's not that. It was but now-"

"Then what is it?" He turned back to her, his face dark. "I think that you still love me." 

"Of course I love you!" Minerva shouted angrily. "I always will! Why must you make me say it when it pains me so? Can't you see how I suffer? Good God, Albus, why can't you understand? We cannot be together, we aren't meant to be together!" 

"But why?" 

"We just can't!" Her voice was thin and shrill. "And I will not explain myself. I do not have to explain myself to you, Dumbledore. And I won't." 

His shoulders slumped in defeat. "So that's it then?" 

"It has to be," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her chance, her hope of being able to be with him was slipping away and her heart snapped. She knew that she was hurting them both but it was better for him in the long run. She couldn't be with him without telling him the truth and if he knew the truth, he would never feel the same about her again and she couldn't bear that. She didn't expect him to love her for the rest of time, that was too much to ask, but she wanted him to respect her at least and if he knew, he would only look at her with disdain and disgust. 

"I will just have to accept your choice, won't I? Don't worry, Minerva, I will never forget myself around you again. You will never hear a declaration of love pass from my lips, I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable." His voice was cold and unfeeling and before Minerva had a chance to say anything, he stormed from the room, leaving her a mass of skirts on the floor as her legs finally gave way and she cried bitterly for everything she would never have. 

 

 


	10. Molly's News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two: 
> 
> 17 Years Later

Minerva McGonagall had been Professor McGonagall for seventeen years. 

Despite the ending of any sort of romantic relationship she and Albus might have had, he hadn't been bitter and had offered her a teaching post at Hogwarts, no doubt for hers and Molly's safety. Minerva had gratefully accepted the position, knowing that being hidden in the castle would be the only way to keep Tom Riddle from bothering them again. She was glad that she was actually capable of the job, she would have hated it if she'd been useless for she knew that Albus would have kept her on anyway and that wouldn't have been fair to the students. Luckily, she had proven to be very talented at teaching, despite her lack of patience and often sharp tongue, and although her students were wary of her, many came to admire her in the end. Her determination and clear head seemed to rub off on them and they left Hogwarts fully prepared for the world that faced that, at least they had, until Tom Riddle had changed his name and became Lord Voldemort. 

He had touched most of the wizarding world by now and a constant cloud hung over Hogwarts. Frantic parents shipped their children to the castle as fast as they could, knowing that Albus Dumbledore was the only person in the world able to protect them. Students dreading the morning owls and shivered if they received a letter. They opened them gingerly, terrified that they were about to be told that their families were dead. It was a common occurrence to hear a scream or two at breakfast, only to look up to see white faced students burst into tears. Riddle and his followers were tearing through the world, bleeding it dry as they did, and it seemed as if only Albus stood between life and death. 

Minerva had watched as threats of danger had turned into reality and the toll it was having on Albus was startlingly clear. Riddle had emerged from the shadows five years ago and since then, Minerva had seen Albus age a hundred years. She knew that he carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders, she knew that he blamed every death on himself. To the students and staff he presented a calm, controlled man who spoke in a quiet, reassuring voice, who commanded with authority but Minerva only saw a tortured soul and pain in his shining blue eyes. He looked tired, despondent and grief-stricken and worry filled every line of his face. She knew that he was trying his utmost to rid the world of a madman but he wouldn't see it like that. He would think himself a complete failure - for every life he saved, at three more were taken before Albus could help. Everyday she wanted to say something to him, anything to make him feel better but if she did, she would be over-stepping the line they had drawn between them and it had taken too long to draw it for her to simply smudge it again. 

Theirs was a strictly professional relationship. They spoke only to each other when they had to - at staff meetings, during meals in the Great Hall and such. Otherwise, their lives were lived on different plains and they never crossed paths. She hadn't ventured into his office since her appointment as Professor and he never walked along the corridor in Griffyndor Tower where her rooms sat. They were mindful of each others habits and made they bumped into one another; they knew each other's routes around the castle and avoided them. 

Minerva didn't know if he still loved her. She would be surprised if he did for they did not even have a friendship anymore. She missed his companionship immensely and often wondered if he did. She still loved him. She couldn't seem to shake it. Every time she saw him her heart jumped a little in her chest and it had taken years of practice to still it. Sometimes, though the instances had become less often, she looked at him with such desire and yearning, she felt she might break in two. He was everything she had ever dreamed about and although she had learned to live without him, she still wished that they could have been granted the sweet reprieve of being together. She was indeed, a stronger and much wiser woman than she been seventeen years ago but she was still capable of feeling love and loneliness and that became evident to her whenever she saw him. Part of her knew that she had accepted the job just for a chance to be near him everyday and she didn't regret her choice; she didn't know how she would have lived without him in her life everyday. 

Bringing up Molly had been a welcome distraction. Minerva found that she had been able to throw all of her unspent love into raising the darling girl. All of the heartbreak and shattered dreams were worth it when Minerva thought of Molly. Molly had given her life meaning and with each ounce of strength that Minerva gave to her, Minerva felt as if she were repenting for her past sins. Molly was a miracle and Minerva cherished her. 

At nineteen, Molly was a small young woman with bright red hair and the softest brown eyes Minerva had ever seen. She was a clever, charming girl with a kindness which matched Poppy's and a determination which matched Minerva's. She had been easy enough to raise; calm and considerate though she did have her moments of temper. Mother and daughter had locked heads a few times during Molly's teenage years and there had been a number of shouting matches and slammed doors. Each argument had always been smoothed over by Poppy and now, as Molly was reaching her twentieth birthday, she and Minerva shared a bond as strong and deep as any mother-daughter bond could be. Minerva was extremely proud of her. 

Molly had never asked once about her father. Minerva liked to think that that was because she and Poppy had been enough as parents for Molly meaning that she hadn't ever felt the need to question it. It was a relief because Minerva finally knew who Molly's father was. With a careful eye over the years and a lot of thought, Minerva had worked out who the father was on Molly's tenth birthday. It was a simple act and look from Molly which had confirmed it and it had only seemed the worsen Minerva's mind. The truth, the final truth, would crumble Molly's world and Minerva wasn't sure if Molly would be able to forgive her for it. Fear, she supposed, kept Minerva from revealing the truth; that and the added fact that Minerva did not want to shake the foundations of Molly's life and cause her any pain. So, she kept the knowledge to herself, not even confiding in Poppy, whom she knew had her own suspicions and Minerva wagered that Poppy was right. She of course felt the guilt of her decision every day and waited for the moment when she would be made to pay for her deceit. 

Now, Minerva pushed the feeling of guilt out of her mind as she heard Molly scramble about her room. It was a Saturday and most Saturday mornings Minerva sat in her sitting room with her tea listening to the sounds of Molly getting ready for a day out. Minerva heard the bedroom door open and Molly walk across the hallway to the bathroom. 

"Mum, are you dressed?" Molly called from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. 

"I'm awake, aren't I? Of course I'm dressed!" 

"Good," Molly appeared in the sitting room. "Because Arthur will be here in a minute." 

"He never comes in anyway," Minerva smirked, knowing that Arthur Weasley was still terrified of his professor, especially now that he was courting her daughter. "Where is Mr Weasley taking you today?" 

Molly furrowed her brow irritably. "Mum, I've told you! His name is Arthur. You can't keep calling him Mr Weasley, he isn't your student anymore." 

"Old habits die hard," Minerva said. 

"Well, could you at least try harder? Aunt Poppy has managed to do it," Molly slumped into a pale green armchair. She couldn't sit still, fidgeting and tapping her fingers on the arm. 

"What's the matter with you?" Minerva asked. "Why can't you sit still?" 

Molly shook her head. "I'm fine. Shall I tidy up and get a fresh pot?" She stood and began clearing away the china. 

Minerva raised a thin brow. "Why should you do that?"

"Because Arthur is coming to tea. He will be here in five minutes," Molly vanished into the kitchen. 

Minerva followed her. "Why is he coming here? It's very unlike him." 

"He just is," Molly replied, scooting past Minerva with a tea tray in hand. "And could you behave whilst he's here?" 

"I always behave!" Minerva cried indignantly. 

"You know what I mean," Molly shot her a warning glance. "Be gentle. You always treat him like he's still a student." 

Minerva laughed. "Fine, fine. I'll be as friendly as a lap dog." 

"Just don't bite," Molly retorted. 

Molly rushed to the door when Arthur knocked and Minerva resumed her seat. She smiled at Arthur as she entered. He was a nice enough boy of average height with a kind round face, warm blue eyes and red hair. Molly ushered him to a seat on the sofa, next to her, and the two of them shuffled about uncomfortably. Both of them seemed nervous. Arthur was always nervous when he was around Minerva but it was unusual for Molly. 

"What brings you here, Arthur?" Minerva asked as gently as she could. She poured out tea and levitated the cups to them. "You two must have better things to do than spend your morning with me." 

Arthur laughed nervously, nearly missing his mouth with the cup as he took a sip of tea. "I, I thought it would be nice." 

"Quite," Minerva smiled behind her cup, a glint of mischief in her green eyes with earned her another look of warning from her daughter. Minerva shrugged innocently. 

"Oh, lets just say it," Molly grinned. 

"If you think we should," Arthur said quietly. 

"Arthur has asked me to marry him, Mum. Look," Molly held out her hand and as a veiling spell disappeared, a small diamond ring revealed itself. 

"Oh," was all Minerva could say. She was completely taken aback. She had always thought that Arthur would be too nervous to ask the question in first place, besides, Molly had never spoken of marriage. 

Whenever Molly was about to make a decision, she always tested the waters with Minerva first. When she had told Minerva that she was courting Arthur, Minerva hadn't been surprised for had he seemed to creep up in many conversations for weeks. If he and Molly had been discussing marriage, Minerva would have expected Molly to drop the subject here and there, as casually as she could. 

"Well, what do you think?" Molly asked, her cheeks a little flushed. 

"Don't you think you are both a little young to wed?" 

Molly waved her hand. The diamond glittered in the light. "We've been together for years. We're sensible, I don't really see the problem." 

"And what does your mother make of it, Mr Weasley?" Minerva cocked a brow at him. 

"Oh, well, she," he stumbled over his words. "She's alright with it. Said that she was... pleased. Wasn't really surprised, given that You-Know-Who is, well, you know. And what with our work in the Order - Oh! Sorry, Molly..." 

Molly cringed into the sofa, her face screwed up. Arthur suddenly turned very white. 

"What did you just say?" Minerva asked urgently. 

"I, oh, well, I-" 

"Well done, Arthur," Molly moaned, flinching. "Don't lose your temper, Mum, not with Arthur here-" 

"Lose my temper!" Minerva shrieked. "Lose my temper! Do you mean that you purposefully disobeyed me and joined that Order?" 

"I'm an adult-"

"No! No you are not! You are a nineteen year old girl! What business have you putting your life at risk? What did I tell you?" Minerva's voice boomed around the room, making Arthur shrink. She felt as if her blood was on fire and she made no attempt to cool it.

How dare Molly lie to her about such a thing? Beneath the temper, which rose from utter fear, Minerva knew that she would be proud of her for being so brave and selfless but she couldn't think of that now. She knew all about Albus's Order and the danger it posed. She could accept that it was a grand idea, to have a group of people outside of the useless Ministry dedicated to fighting Riddle but what business did Molly have in it? Minerva would have joined herself if it hadn't meant spending more time with Albus and causing him complications but Molly was just a girl with her whole life ahead of her. The risk of being killed was high and there were older, wiser people more equipped than Molly to take that risk. Albus should have known that. 

Albus. Her temper was now directed at him. How dare he let Molly join when he knew that she could die? How could he let children be involved in something that was terrifying for adults, let alone children who had never been witness to such dark magic? And why hadn't he had the decency to tell her? 

"Dumbledore let you join?" Minerva questioned, although she already knew the answer. 

"Yes," Molly said. "But you shouldn't blame him. We're needed, there are so few of us-" 

"I do blame him," Minerva seethed. "I blame him entirely, no doubt filling your head with notions of honour and glory-" 

"It wasn't like that! Where are you going?" Molly cried out as Minerva rose from her seat and made for the door. 

"Where do you think? I mean to have it out with him!" 

"No, Mum, please, don't so that!" 

"Stay here," Minerva said darkly as she slammed the door. 

 


	11. Deception

As soon as Minerva burst through the door to his office, Albus knew that she was pitching for a fight. The door slammed hard on the stone wall behind it, shaking on it's hinges, the din echoing around the room. The portraits mumbled their protests, ready to reprimand the source of the noise until they each caught sight of Minerva's thunderous face and they retreated quickly. Fawkes followed them, his great red wings carrying him out of the open window, leaving Albus hopelessly alone. Albus could feel her rage bounce on walls and had he not been a braver man, the murderous spark in her eyes would have made him follow suit. 

"Do I need my wand?" he asked cooly, reaching into his robes. 

Hers was held tightly in her hand, her knuckles white with the effort. "It will do you no good, Dumbledore," Minerva hissed. 

"I don't doubt it," he said. "What's the matter?" 

"I hear that you are leading children to the slaughter now," Minerva's voice was full of venom and spite. 

Albus sighed. He knew to what she was referring too and should have expected her to find out eventually. "She isn't a child." 

"She is nineteen years old!" Minerva shrieked. "What has she seen of the world?" 

"You've sheltered her, Minerva, but even that cannot stop her from seeing this world for what it is. You have kept her buried up here for years and whilst I do not blame you for that, you can do it no longer. I would have thought that you would have been proud of her, for wanting to do some good. To try-"

"I have and always will be proud of her," Minerva barked. "That isn't the issue. My pride cannot keep her safe. You, of all people, should know that!" 

"I think that it is fear which is making you see things as you are," Albus said. "Deep down, you know that Molly is doing the right thing. If it wasn't for me, you would no doubt be in the Order with her, because you know that it is the right thing to do." 

"I do resent you," Minerva spat. "You think that you know me so well. How could you? You haven't known me for seventeen years. I'm not sure you've ever really known me because I'll tell you something - doing the right thing, or the decent thing, is of no concern to me where my daughter is involved. I would lie, kill, cheat, anything dishonourable, if it meant that my daughter was alive and happy. If it could keep her safe. We can all carry notions of purity but they'd be damned before I let anything happen to her. Does that shock you?" 

"No," he shook his head. "I would expect nothing less of you. Nothing less of any parent desperate to give their children life." 

"Then why did you take her in?" Minerva whispered and regretted it immediately. The words and their meaning, had slipped from her mouth before her raging, fearful mind had had a chance to stop them. She froze, watching as Albus furrowed his brow and then, upon realising the implication of her words, his face darkened. 

"No," he said. He rose from his seat. "No. You said...," he gave a great roar and rushed towards her. For a moment, she was worried that he might strike her but instead he grabbed her sharply by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. "Did you lie to me? Have you always known but out of spite kept it from me? You will answer me!" He bellowed, shaking her. 

"I didn't lie to you! I didn't know then," she was not scared of him and made sure that he knew that. "You can't bully me, Dumbledore." 

"No," he pushed her away forcefully. "You are the bully here. You call the shots and always have, haven't you? You left me, Minerva, not the other way around. You vanished and when you finally re-surfaced, you had a husband. You moved on, not me. When I begged for you to give us a chance, you said no. It was your decision to make, you wouldn't even take into account my feelings. And now, you have decided to keep my own daughter from me for all of these years!" 

"I haven't kept her away," Minerva retorted. "She's been here the whole time!" 

"Don't you get clever with me," Albus hissed. "Not now I have you backed into a corner." 

Minerva smiled spitefully. "You'll never have me backed into a corner," Minerva said. "I am not so in awe of you, or scared of you, to ever be backed into a corner." 

He turned from her, breathing heavily. This wasn't the woman that Albus had loved. The woman Albus had loved would never be able to lie, to be so deceitful and calculating. How could she have been so cruel as to keep him from being a father? As he had watched Molly grow, he always had a soft spot for her. She was a delightful girl after all, but he thought that the weakness he felt towards her was because she was Minerva's daughter. Had a part of him always known? Was there something within him which had drawn him to the girl, because of the blood they shared? He wondered if he had spent these years in denial, ignoring what fate was screaming at him. Perhaps he had trusted Minerva too much, truly believe that she would have told him that he had fathered Molly. 

"Do you know what your problem is?" Albus asked bitterly. "You're too scared to be happy. You'd rather be miserable and alone than have a chance at happiness because you know what miserable and alone feels like. You're too scared to find out what happiness feels like. You're a coward, Minerva. You can do what you like but because of your cowardice, you've kept us all apart and denied us a chance to be a family." 

"Ha!" Minerva laughed bitterly. "What do you know about family, Dumbledore, when you ruined your own?"

With a sharp intake of breath, he said: "That's a low blow, even for you." 

It had been a terrible thing for Minerva to say but she was always at her cruellest when she knew that she was wrong. Albus was right - she was cornered and she had no idea how she was going to get herself out of it. She had lied to everyone she loved for nearly two decades and now it was out, there was no going back. 

"I didn't mean for it to be like this," she muttered. "It all got out of hand. When I think about it, I've never been able to control my life. I'm inept, as you would say." 

Albus scoffed. 

"That's all you have to say?" She questioned. 

"That's all I want to say to you," he said. "You've ruined everything." 

"Yes, I know," she whispered. "You aren't going to tell Molly are you?" 

He turned to her, his face twisted with disgust. "Even now, you want to carry on with your deceit?" He sneered. "You may have lied to her, her whole life but I won't." 

"You can't!" Minerva cried desperately. "She's all I have! If you tell her, I'll lose her!" 

"That is your problem, not mine," he spat, making for the door. 

Panic rose in her throat. She launched at him, clutching at his grey robes, trying to pull him back. "I won't let you do this, Albus! I won't let you-" 

"Get off of me!" He shrugged her off. "Have some dignity, Minerva." 

"I haven't any left! Please, Albus, can we at least talk about it first? Don't go -" 

Out of options, Minerva scurried in front of him and fell to her knees. She wasn't one to beg but for Molly, she would do anything. "I've let everybody down. I'm a complete failure, but please, let me have this. Molly is the only thing that matters to me. She is the only thing that has ever made sense. You cannot know what she means - if it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here. I would have lost my mind. I'm begging you, Albus, as a pathetic soul at your feet, do not do this. Not like this. Please, in the name of any love you might have felt for me, have pity on me, just this once and I - I will try to explain. I did lie to you. I've been lying to you for years but only to save you. I know you won't believe it but it's true - I've lied for your happiness. Because that it what you deserve. I didn't want to leave you, I never wanted to leave you. I broke my heart and yours in doing so..." 

"Then why did you?" 

She shook her head. "Isn't it enough that I didn't want to? Why must you know everything?" 

"You want me to understand, so let me. Otherwise, you are wasting my time." 

"I can't," she choked, tears slipping from her luminous eyes. "I can't..." 

"Then I have nothing to say to you," he pushed past her, leaving her a crumpled, weeping mass on the cold stone floor, and made his way to Molly. 

"Come back, please!" Minerva screamed but her words filled an empty corridor. 

He was gone and Minerva's life was about to fall to pieces. 


	12. A Living Arrangement

"I wouldn't bother, Aunt Poppy," Molly said. "I'm not going to change my mind." 

Poppy closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She knew that she was wasting her time. Molly could be as stubborn as Minerva when she wanted to be and at this moment, she was hurt and annoyed so Poppy had no chance of trying to coax Molly into agreeing to see her mother. 

It had been three days since Molly had found out who her father was. Poppy had been out when it all happened and she returned to the castle to find Molly in her kitchen, helping herself to a sandwich. 

"What are you doing here?" Poppy asked. "Hasn't your mother fed you?" 

"Can I stay here? Until the wedding?" Molly asked. 

"What wedding?" 

"Mine. I'm marrying Arthur but I'm not going into that now. Stuff has happened since then, my engagement is no longer the highlight of the day," Molly said and it was only when she turned to face Poppy that Poppy could tell that she had been crying. Her eyes were red and small. 

"What stuff?" 

Molly's laughter was hollow. "Oh, I've just found out that my mother has been lying to me for nineteen years and that my Dad is the headmaster, so you know, I'm not in the greatest of moods," she said, making her way into the sitting room. 

Poppy was stunned. How had so much happened in one day? "You're going to need to explain," Poppy said, sitting next to Molly. 

Molly shrugged. "What is there to explain? My mother is a deceitful, selfish bitch." 

"You don't mean that." 

"I do," Molly said earnestly. "And I want nothing more to do with her." 

"And what about Albus?" Poppy asked. 

"He says that he didn't know and I think I believe him. He looked so... so sad and guilty. He told me he was sorry for having missed everything. From what he said, he and my mother had a massive row and that's how he found out - she let it slip. I told him that he shouldn't feel guilty, we are the wronged ones," she shot Poppy an unsettling glare. "Did you know?"

"No. Minerva said she didn't know, that it was between-" Poppy shook her head. "That doesn't matter, we know now. Clearly you are angry at your mother, and we'll come back to that, but how do you feel about having Albus as a father?" 

"I don't know," Molly replied, biting into her sandwich. "Strange, I suppose. I mean, it's odd to have a father that you don't love simply because you didn't know who he was. He's a nice enough man but it's not like I've ever been close to him or anything. Now I understand why he and my Mother have avoided each other all of these years. Arthur says-" 

"You've told him then?" Poppy asked, a little disappointed that now Arthur's opinion of Minerva would no doubt be based on Molly's resentment. 

"He was there, when Dumbledore came and told me." 

"Where was Minerva?" 

"She came running in, crying and wailing. It was pitiful," Molly's voice was full of contempt. "She just kept saying 'sorry' and begging me to forgive her. I couldn't stand to look at her so I packed up my things and left. I'm not going back, Aunt Poppy, so if you won't have me, I'll find somewhere else to go." 

"Of course you can stay here," Poppy said automatically. She felt as if she were betraying Minerva by allowing Molly to stay but what else could she do? It was quite clear that Molly wouldn't return home and if Poppy refused to let her stay, Molly could end up anywhere. If she was alone, she would be vulnerable and both Minerva and Poppy wouldn't get a moments rest. Surely Minerva would prefer to know that Poppy was looking after Molly, even if it meant that Poppy was, in a way, picking sides? 

"Thanks, I appreciate it." 

"But you are going to talk to Minerva at some point, aren't you?" 

"I am not!" Molly cried defensively. "She doesn't deserve my time. I don't trust her, so why should I bother?" 

Although it pained her, Poppy said nothing more on the subject that night. For the next three days, Poppy had tried her hardest to convince Molly to speak to Minerva but to no avail. Outwardly, Molly was defensive and cold but at night, Poppy could hear her crying in the spare bedroom, next to hers. She understood why Molly was so hurt but she couldn't understand why she wouldn't give her mother a chance to explain herself. Molly categorically declared that no explanation could absolve Minerva of her sins but Poppy was sure that Molly was just being proud. If she saw how much her mother was suffering, Poppy knew that Molly would feel a little weakness and finally relent. 

On the second night, Minerva had appeared. She looked completely dishevelled and lost, heartbreak was evident in her long face and her green eyes were empty and full of bewilderment. Poppy had let her in but Molly had fled to her bedroom, locking the door. Mother and daughter had screamed at each other; Minerva pounding on the door and Molly swearing like a sailor. Poppy had been helpless. In the past, she had been able to smooth things over between them but too much damage had been caused and there was nothing Poppy could do. She tried to comfort her dearest friend but when both women had given up, Minerva had stormed out and Poppy hadn't seen her since. 

Now, as they sat eating supper, Poppy felt as if she were talking to a brick wall. Nothing she could say say seemed to change Molly's mind. 

"What does Arthur have to say about this?" Poppy asked, desperately hoping that this tactic might work. 

"I don't care what he thinks," Molly replied dismissively. "His mother hasn't lie to him all of his life." 

"Well, you're going to have to sort it out if you want to get married any time soon." 

"Why?" 

"You can't get married without your mother there!" Poppy exclaimed. 

Molly raised her red brows. "You don't think I'm serious do you? I really do mean it, Aunt Poppy, I don't want her in my life. Ever. I won't forgive her for this, I really won't. And I will get married without her. As far as I'm concerned, I have no mother." 

"After all that she has done for you?" Poppy snapped as she lost her temper. "Don't be so ungrateful. Stubbornness and pride are nothing to live on. If you get married without her, you'll regret it, all your life long." 

"I won't." 

Poppy sighed, completely exasperated. "You are so much like her. Don't make the same mistakes she's made. Look how she is paying for them now!" 

"I should have known that you would stick up for her!" Molly shouted, jumping to her feet. "No matter what she does, you will always defend her, won't you?" 

"Oh, sit down, Molly," Poppy scolded. "I'm trying to have an adult conversation with you. Haven't I let you stay here?" 

"Only so you can convince me to talk to her!" Molly countered. "Jesus! Why does nobody understand my point? Why does everybody see her as the victim?" 

"So you want to be the victim?" Poppy cried. "What a hard life you've had! Poor Molly McGonagall, growing up loved and warm! Did you know that your mother took a job from a man who broke her heart just to keep you safe? Did you know that your mother hasn't left this castle in seventeen years for fear that something might happen to you? She has sacrificed her own happiness for you! So, please, go and play the martyr, Molly! Tell everybody what a had life you've had, what a selfish woman your mother is! Go and lie to the world!" 

"I will! I expect I will be very good at lying, seeing as my mother is so adept at it!" Molly shrieked, marching to her room and slamming the door. 

She fell onto the bed, burying her face in a pillow to muffle her scream. It was a scream of frustration, heartache and betrayal. She started to cry again and the fifth time that day, she was sobbing. She didn't know how she still had tears to spill when she felt so empty. How could she feel empty and yet be so full of every emotion she'd knew at the same time? 

Deep down, very deep now, she wanted to forgive her mother, but Poppy was right - her pride wouldn't let her. Every time Molly felt her resolve weaken, her head screamed at her to stop being so foolish. Her mother deserved to suffer, she deserved to be alone. After everything that Minerva had done, there could be no redemption. Any forgiveness that Molly felt she might have to offer was eaten away with pain and anger and Molly was living on it, living on the adrenaline that it brought, otherwise, she wouldn't be able to function. 

Molly felt as if she no longer knew who she was. All of her life, she had Molly McGonagall, loved and cherished by her mother and her aunt. In all honesty, the fact that she was missing a father had never bothered her much. When she had been younger, she had been curious but by the time she turned thirteen or fourteen, she stopped thinking about it. She hadn't felt as if anything was missing but now, a great hole appeared in her soul, deep and black as if it had festered there for years and she had only just realised that it was there. She realised that by punishing her mother it grew even larger but she hadn't yet admitted it to herself yet. The worst thing was that she wasn't sure if Dumbledore would be able to fill it. She was past the years of needing a father - she was a woman now, capable of looking after herself and besides, she had moved on from fathers and mothers, she was about to get married. She had Arthur now. 

She had never expected Dumbledore of all people to be her father. All she had ever felt between him and her mother was dislike. On the few occasions that she had been witness to their interactions, there had only ever be an awkwardness, a stiffness so great that it was a little suffocating. She couldn't imagine either of them being in love, either with in each or in general, and Molly wondered if she were a product of love at all. Perhaps she had come from a moment of madness, of desperation - it couldn't be love. Minerva could hardly look at Dumbledore without a darkness clouding her face and Dumbledore seemed to actively avoid her; these were not the actions of two people driven by love, or loss, or yearning. 

Molly couldn't imagine her mother being in love at all. Whilst Molly had always felt love from her mother, Minerva was not an affectionate woman. She showed her love with words and facial expressions, she was not one to offer a kiss freely or take Molly into her arms. Molly hadn't needed that from her mother and she did not feel as if she had missed out on anything but any lover Minerva might have had would have wanted it, surely? Molly couldn't imagine being with someone who had a perpetual wall built up around them. She would feel dejected and alone. She most certainly could not imagine Dumbledore appreciating such a thing. From what Molly had learned about him during her years at Hogwarts, he was a very friendly, kind man. There was always a part of him that seemed reserved but the warmth flowed off of him with every smile he gave - how could such a man fall in love with the cold and sharp Minerva, if indeed, he had fallen in love with her? They were both extremely powerful and intelligent but they were the only similarities. When she thought of her and Arthur, it just didn't seem right that Dumbledore and Minerva were drawn together at some point. She and Arthur were so very alike, they had the same values and wishes, they could make each other laugh so much that sometimes they couldn't see for the tears! There was no way on this Earth that Minerva could have ever laughed like that. She was too serious, to devoid of humour to ever be bent in half, laughing so hard that she couldn't catch her breath. 

With a sigh, Molly realised that she didn't really know her mother at all. Or the man who was now her father. Her illusion of life was shattered and she was now forced to question everything. How could she ever forgive Minerva for that? 


	13. The Kiss

Minerva, holding a huge pile of books and parchment in her arms, hurried around the corner, on her way to her office. She was so deep in thought that she wasn't looking where she was going and the next thing she knew, she had crashed into someone. 

The items cluttered noisily to the floor. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking-" she muttered, frantically falling to her knees to gather them up. "I hope you aren't hurt?" She looked up and saw Albus towering over her, his face a mix of concern and light amusement. 

"No harm done, my dear," he said. He drew out his wand and the items were suddenly arranged neatly and hovering between them. "I find that magic can be very convenient at times like this." 

"I could have done that myself," Minerva barked. She climbed back onto her feet and smoothed her skirts. "Well, if you aren't injured, I will bid you good evening-" 

"Wait a moment," Albus caught hold of her arm lightly as she moved past him. "I haven't seen you since... How are you?" 

Minerva laughed bitterly. "I've lost my daughter, Albus. I've let her down. How do you think I feel?" 

Albus hung his head. "I'm afraid that it is my fault," he said quietly. "I was angry, Minerva and I shouldn't of-" 

"Good night, Albus," Minerva said tightly and she continued on her path, her back straight, her heels clicking on the stone floor and her skirts swishing urgently from side to side. She kept her head up, her long neck rising elegantly from her shoulders. She knew that Albus would be watching her walk away and so she made sure she looked as defiant and controlled as possible. 

Once she shut the door to her office, however, she let the books fall to the floor once again as she leaned against the hard wood of the door. It had taken most of her strength and composure to walk with such dignity, when really she had none left. There was no dignity or pride within her anymore, only guilt and sorrow. She felt utterly pathetic, so small and forgotten. Any illusion she'd had of being a powerful, formidable woman was shattered - she'd been lying to herself for all of her life. Strip away her heart, her family and friends, Minerva was nothing but a shell, a sobbing, moping shell who dragged herself from one place to another. She was nothing really, nothing of any consequence. 

She hadn't seen or spoken to Molly in nearly three months.

Minerva knew that Molly was still in the castle and that brought her some comfort. The thought of Molly alone in the world would be too much to bare. No, Minerva was grateful to Poppy for taking the girl in, for once again being their saviour and the only reason Minerva slept at all at night was because she knew that Molly was safe and protected within these stone walls. 

She missed her, more than she ever thought it was possible to miss somebody. There was nothing worse than coming home after a tiring day to the dark and the cold. As Minerva nibbled on a scant dinner on a tray, she missed the conversation, the noise that another makes in a home. She missed Molly's voice, the way it became sweeter whenever she spoke of Arthur, or her eyes, so dark and smooth, which lit up when she threw her head back to laugh. And she laughed so often! She was such a happy, fun-loving girl, like her Aunt, and was never without a smile. A smile, so wide and infectious, it would light up the darkest rooms. 

She had tried her hardest to apologise, or to speak to her at least. After the ill-timed attempt she made very early on, which had ended in a screaming match, Minerva had left her alone for a week or so. Molly was not an unkind person so she had been sure that her attitude might soften towards Minerva. At least enough for her to contemplate listening to what Minerva had to say. But Minerva had been wrong. She had underestimated Molly's stubborn streak, inherited, Minerva knew, from herself. Molly had clung onto her anger and was still doing so and despite Minerva's pleading letters or Poppy's endless requests, Molly had yet to give in, and until she did, Minerva was helpless. 

On the other side of the door stood Albus. He could hear the quiet crying and the light thud of her banging the back of her head against the door. He wasn't sure why he had followed her and now, he was a little embarrassed. She wouldn't want him to listen as she cried softly. She wouldn't want him to witness her at her most desperate but... he was so worried about her. 

He hadn't planned to cause her such sorrow. Yes, he been angry at her, so angry he could have spat fire and not for the first time in his life, he had allowed that feeling to drown out his better  judgement. He resented her for keeping Molly from him for all of those years but he wasn't a cruel man, especially when it came to Minerva, nor was he spiteful and he hated himself for the way he had acted. Yes, Molly would have had to have been told for he wanted to be a part of her life, if she wanted him to be that was, but there would have been better ways to go about it. Instead, he had dropped in on the poor, unsuspecting girl and in doing so, had caused a great rift between mother and daughter. He knew how much Minerva cared for the girl - she adored her - and now he had taken her from Minerva. He supposed he had meant to, at the time, because that was the only way he could think of to punish Minerva. She had done wrong and had deceived them all but, now that the clouds had rolled by, he regretted his punishing her. 

It must have been hard for her, to keep the secret to herself for all of those years. She needn't of but he think he understood why she did. What would have been the point of giving him false hope when he might not have been the father? And by the time she did know, Molly was grown and settled, how could she cause such upheaval? Albus himself was at fault. He shouldn't have just assumed that the child was Mr Cole's - he should have kept asking and asking until Minerva finally gave some sort of answer. They had both been stupid and childish but it seemed that Minerva was the only one paying for their sins. 

"Oh, God DAMN it!" He heard Minerva shout, followed by a loud 'bang'. He pushed the door open and found Minerva standing in the middle of the room, panting, her wand held in her hand and her office is disarray. The many bookshelves that lined the walls had tumbled to the floor, their contents scattered and splayed across the floor. The green velvet curtains which hung at the window had come off their poles and the dozens of ink pots which Minerva kept about the place had smashed on the stone, oozing their contents on the floor. 

"Is everything alright?" Albus asked, his eyes roving about the room. 

"Yes," Minerva replied tightly. 

"It doesn't look it," Albus said. 

Minerva shrugged elegantly and, ignoring the mess, took a seat at her rosewood desk and began pouring out a pot of tea. "Tea, Albus?" Albus furrowed his brows, a look of confusion that was not missed by Minerva. "It's a simple question, Albus, do you want the tea or not? Because it doesn't affect me either way." 

"Oh, yes - I will, thank you," Albus stuttered, taking a seat opposite. He watched Minerva as she poured and stirred, a quizzical expression on his face. 

"Oh, do stop staring at me as if I were a fish in a fishbowl," she said impatiently, shoving the cup and saucer towards him. "I've offered you tea, not the Hope Diamond." A smile played at her pale lips, the first Albus had seen in a very long time. 

"I haven't had the honour of an invitation to tea from from in over two decades," Albus said. "Please forgive me if I am shocked." He turned in his seat to look at the mess behind them. "So, Minerva... re-decorating?" 

Minerva pursed her lips. "It wasn't an accident," she declared. "I meant to make a mess. It was the only thing I could think to do." 

"Well, as with every task you take on, you've done a marvellous job," Albus said lightly. "Do you want me to help you clear it away?" 

"It's fine as it is, for the moment," Minerva said. "Just drink your tea and see if you can keep your nose out of my business for five minutes." 

As they drank, Minerva sat with her head turned slightly to the side. It wasn't purposefully turned, Albus knew because otherwise she would have turned her whole body away from him. She sat with the cup perched on the edge of her lips, her bright green eyes staring at nothing. This was the first time Albus had looked at her properly in recent months and he could see age in her face that went beyond her years. Beneath her eyes clung dark purple circles which seemed to drown them; her pale skin, once like porcelain, seemed to have lost it's glow, leaving a chalky substitute and her hair, once shining black, was edged with grey. Despite it all, she was still the most beautiful woman, person, Albus had ever seen. The change in her face only reflected the hardship from which she suffered but her face, with all it's angles and lines, remained memorising. 

Since he had found out about Molly, he'd thought that he no longer loved Minerva. Now he knew that it wasn't so. He could never not love her. As he gazed at her face, his heart was hammering in his chest like a school-boy's, and his desire threatened to overwhelm him. The years had not watered down his feelings; they remained as strong as ever, rooted to his soul. Loving her was like a sixth sense, an impulse over which he had no control. What he wouldn't give to be able to love her freely, to call her his and to be hers. 

"What are you thinking about?" He asked softly, foolishly hoping that it might be he who occupied her mind.  

"Are you going to the wedding?"

He sighed. "I am," he said, a little ashamed. 

"That's good," she said, still looking away from him. With great effort, she turned to him and smiled sadly. "I wouldn't want her side to be bare." 

"She has a few days yet, to change her mind," he reassured. 

She shook her head. "No, she won't. She is too much like me. I never thought-" Her words caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. "I never thought I would miss my own daughter's wedding. Hell, I never thought my life would end up like this." 

"Oh, my dear," his heart was breaking for her and without thinking, he reached across the desk and squeezed her hand gently. "You do not deserve this." 

Minerva looked down at his hand on hers. She hadn't felt his touch in so long and she was surprised by the sudden lurch of her heart at the feeling of her hand in his. Her love for him had been buried deep under her skin for many years but now, it was pushed to the very surface and felt as new and vital as it had all those years ago. She knew that she should have pulled her hand away politely but she didn't want to. It felt so wonderful to feel something, after feeling numb and hollow for months. She allowed herself the delight of squeezing his hand and running her thumb lightly up up his, as she had when they had begun. 

"I do, Albus," she said. "I know I do. You said so yourself-" 

"I didn't mean-" 

"Yes you did," Minerva sighed. "And I do not blame you for a moment. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I know it doesn't seem enough but I really am so dreadfully sorry." Tears began to fall from her eyes, which had turned dark and seemed full of woe, as her lips began to tremble. 

Albus, unable to sit back and ignore her grief any longer, rose from his seat and walked around the desk to her. He gently pulled her onto her feet, his hand moved her pointed chin up towards him, his blue eyes never leaving hers. He saw a little panic and resistance flow across her face and so he quickly whispered: "Please, Minerva, permit me to..." 

He trailed off, her permission granted by the closing of her eyes, and kissed her. He could have cried with relief as their lips touched, for he had wanted to kiss her for so many years. He was soft and gentle but desire overtook him and the kiss became deeper and more urgent. He expected resistance from Minerva but was delighted when she moaned very quietly into his mouth and her arms snaked around his neck. His hands fell to her waist, pulling her closer to him. He could feel her tears and her heart as it pounded like his own and his mind was suddenly filled with the memories that he lived on; the first time Minerva had told him that she loved him, their first embrace, their first kiss, their first and only night together. 

To his bitter disappointment, she pulled away, her face soft and flushed. She cupped his face in her hands. He thought that she was going to say something to stop them but instead she searched his merry blue eyes, her own intense and dark. He tried to convey every thought and feeling he had to her and hoped that she could read them in his face. 

"I don't think this is the best idea," came a voice from across the room and Albus and Minerva jumped apart. 

Poppy stood with a frown on her wide face. 

"Poppy, I-" Minerva gasped. 

"Are you two really going to start this again?" She scolded. She walked past the mess, shaking her head, and stopped at the other side of the desk. "Have you thought about what you are doing?" 

Minerva sighed. "No, not really," she answered sadly. 

"I don't mean to get involved. You are adults but... I can't help thinking that you are making a mistake. You cannot jump into this without any thought for anything else, it hardly worked out last time," there was a little judgement in Poppy's expression but her tone was kind. 

"You're right of course," Minerva muttered. "I have enough complication to deal with, Albus, without getting you involved." 

Albus closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Will we ever be without complication?" 

"I think you should go," Minerva said, though she really didn't want him to. She wanted him to stay forever but knew that wasn't possible. 

"Very well," he gave each of the woman a light bow and reluctantly left the room, still feeling Minerva's kiss on his lips.


	14. Arthur's Ultimatum

Molly had underestimated the amount of planning a wedding took. Hers was only going to be a small one and yet Molly was surrounded by lists, letters and questions. How many seats were needed for the ceremony? What meal does each guest want? What was the dress code? Hyacinths aren't in season, what shall be the substitute? It was endless and seemed to go on and on. Reluctantly, Molly admitted that her mother would have been better at planning than Molly; Minerva was nothing but organised. Poppy tried to help her but she was so much like Molly that the two struggled through for hours and at the end of it, had achieved nothing at all. 

Knowing that Molly would be Arthur's wife at the end of was what drove her. She simply couldn't wait to be tied to him forever and to start their life together. A war raged around them but they could build their own little sanctuary, sheltered from it all. She was no fool, she knew that there was little or no chance of them remaining untouched by the darkness but this was their chance to try. 

When she thought of how much she loved Arthur, she thought she would burst. Since they had met on their first day of school, seated at the house table, she knew that she had loved him. She remembered how pale and anxious he seemed, the Great Hall overwhelming him and she, who had grown up amongst it's splendour and magic, had taken it upon herself to reassure and comfort him. From that moment on, they had been fast friends, never without each other and from the age of fifteen, they had been a couple. Molly knew how lucky she was to have him; people saw him as a decent enough fellow but quiet and sometimes strange but there was so much more to him. He was such a selfless man, so full of warmth and love and so very funny. 

Molly sighed happily, grinning as she leaned back in Poppy's arm chair, taking advantage of her absence. 

"Thinking about me? Or is that to hopeful?" Arthur chimed, appearing in the sitting room. "You look swamped," he said, kissing her cheek and sitting down. "I'll be glad when this is all over." 

"You'll be glad!" Molly laughed. "All you have to do is turn up at the right time!" 

Arthur's ears turned pink. "I suppose," he mumbled and shuffled in his seat. "Molly, I have to say something to you and you aren't going to like it. I've thought about it for days and I must act. You can scream and shout at me after I've said my bit," he drew in a deep breath. "I am not going to marry you until you have spoken to your mother." 

"What in God's name-" 

"Nope. I told you to start shouting after I've finished," he interrupted with more authority in his voice than he felt. "I won't let you get married without your mother there. You'll regret it. She's hurt you, I know that, but if you marry me without the other person who loves you the most there, you will look back with such regret. I've waited a long time to marry you, Molly, and I want our marriage and the memory of it to bring us both nothing but joy. I don't want to live my life knowing that there were some element of your marrying me that you regret." 

Molly raised her brows, blinking dumbly. It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak in such a commanding tone - he was usually so easy going and went along with whatever Molly suggested so she knew that he must feel very strongly about it. Since she and Minerva had fallen out, Arthur had only given his opinion once. His opinion at the time, and at the moment, was that Molly needed to resolve things with Minerva, but he hadn't spoken with such conviction the last time. It was odd to see a new side of him, just before they were to wed, but she liked it; it was good to know that even Arthur could speak his mind if he felt strongly about it. It was never Molly's intention to govern him, she wanted them to be partners and his words had eased her mind a little on that subject. It seemed that she would be matched. 

"I don't think that I will regret it," Molly said. 

"You will. Anyway, you won't have a chance to regret it - I won't marry you until you have at least smoothed things over, if not resolved." 

"You really mean it?" 

"Y-Yes, I do," he stumbled over his words a little, the authoritative tone gone. 

Molly rolled her dark eyes. "But, I don't want to talk to her. I have nothing to say."

"Molly, we both know that you have a great deal to say. You haven't spoken of anything but your mother for months-"

"That's not true!" Molly cried indignantly. "I've talked about the wedding-"

"Not as much as you have Minerva," he cut her off. "You know I'm right. Stop being so... so stubborn."

*

Molly found Minerva in her study. She was sitting at her desk, half hidden by mounds of paperwork with her glasses perched half way down her nose. The quill she was holding scurried back and forth across the parchment she was furiously marking, her mouth pursed with irritation. Not for the first time, Molly was taken aback by how beautiful her mother was. She'd always thought it, even when she was a little girl; there was something enchanting about Minerva's long, oval face, an elegance which Molly often wished she had inherited. Minerva was long limbed and graceful, her body oozing dignity with every movement whilst Molly was short in stature, a little plump and had no dignity or elegance about her at all. Molly had always thought that her characteristics must have been inherited from her father but Professor Dumbledore was a tall man - not like Molly at all. 

She could see where the attraction between the two of them would have come from; they were both good-looking people, with clever minds and extraordinary power. They matched in those respects but otherwise, they seemed so very different. Dumbledore was warm and friendly and Molly could imagine him being more so with the person he loved but Minerva, who was practical, didn't seem like the sort of person who would thrive in a romance. There was nothing whimsical about her and Molly had found that romance needed a little whimsy. 

"Mum," Molly said very quietly from across the room. She was suddenly very nervous and she felt guilt rise in her face in the form of a great, deep flush of her cheeks. 

Minerva's head snapped up, her expression a mix of fear and relief. Molly saw her bottom lip tremble a little. "Molly," she gasped. 

Molly wanted to say something but instead, a wave of tears over took her and she was crying into her hands. She had never thought that she would feel so distant from her mother, the great gulf between them had never been more evident as she stood across the room from her. They had always been so close, they relied on each other and upon finally seeing Minerva after all of these weeks, Molly realised how much she missed her. 

"I wish-I wish that you had just told me, from the start," Molly sobbed. "It isn't fair. I feel like I have to hate you but I don't want to. I love you, Mum, I really do but I feel like you've broken my heart." She heard Minerva hasten towards her and when she looked up, she saw that Minerva was crying too. 

"I never meant to hurt you," Minerva's voice cracked. "I panicked. I didn't want to confuse you... I was wrong, Molly. I thought that I was protecting you-"

"Protecting me from what? Professor Dumbledore isn't a horrible man." 

"No, he isn't," Minerva said quietly, pulling Molly gently into her arms. She kissed the top of Molly's head. "I've missed you," she whispered. 

"And I've missed you! So much!" Molly cried, burying her head into Minerva's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for leaving you, for ignoring you."

"Shh,my darling. You have nothing to apologise for. Your world was turned upside down because of me. I understand why you left. I understand why you hate me," Minerva's voice broke at the thought of her daughter hating her when she loved her completely. 

"I don't-I don't hate you," Molly said. "I wanted to. I tried to hate you but I couldn't. You're my mum and I can't live without you." 

Relief and joy flooded threw Minerva. She let out a long sigh, a sigh it seemed she had been carrying like a weight on her shoulders. "I can't live without you, Molly. I've tried but I have done a miserable job. I hate myself for hurting you so, I am full of remorse and regret. There is nothing left in me but regret." 

"Can you forgive me?" Molly asked earnestly. She looked up at Minerva, imploring her with her brown eyes. 

"It is you who must forgive me," Minerva smiled sadly. "It is a very large request for me to make of you." 

"No, it isn't. I do forgive you, Mum. I don't understand your motives but I do forgive you." 

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Minerva wept, pulling her arms tighter around her daughter. They both fell to their knees as they embraced, Minerva rocking Molly gently as they did. 

They were both crying, with pain and joy and relief. They didn't hear the door open as Albus entered the room, his eyes stuck to the floor. 

"Minerva, I'm very sorry but we have to talk about the kiss," he said. 

Molly pulled herself away from Minerva and turned her head quizzically to man in the doorway, who still had not lifted his head. 

"What kiss?" 

 


	15. A Duel of Tongues

"What kiss?" 

Minerva stared at Albus, stricken. Albus closed his blue eyes, wincing as he did whilst Molly's head snapped back and forth between them. 

"Well done, Albus," Minerva chimed tartly, rising to her feet. "Who doesn't look to see who is in a room before they speak?" 

"I didn't think-" he coughed. "This is between you and Molly, I shouldn't interrupt." 

"Wait!" Molly called after him as he turned to leave. "What kiss? What happened?" 

Minerva sighed and made for her desk. "Shall we all sit down?" She shot Albus a dark look as he sheepishly took a seat, her emerald eyes burning into his skin. Her voice disinterested, she said: "Professor Dumbledore and I shared a moment a few weeks ago and we haven't spoken about it since. It was a foolish act, made in the moment and I did not think that it would be worth any further discussion." 

"So you do love each other!" Molly declared. "I wondered, ever since I found out about Professor Dumbledore being my... well, Dad. I didn't think that was why I... came about." 

Minerva's eyes widened with surprise. "How else do you suppose you 'came about'? Elves?" She set her mouth in a straight line. 

"No, but you don't have to be in love to-"

"That's quite enough!" Minerva said tightly. "You wanted to know what the Headmaster was referring to and now I have told you. I think that's the end of the subject." Like any mother, Minerva felt the embarrassment of the topic of conversation but most of all, she was worried about revealing any further details about hers and Albus's relationship. Molly didn't need to know that Albus had been married when Minerva and he had begun their love affair, nor did she need to know that it ended quite suddenly, despite the love still being there. She looked at Albus and saw that he didn't agree - he always narrowed his eyes at her when he didn't agree with her actions - and he no doubt knew what Minerva was thinking. He always seemed to be able to read her like a book, even if she tried her hardest to remain expressionless and toneless. 

"What your mother really means is that she is too scared to discuss what happened between us as it opened up old wounds she tries to pretend aren't there," he said as if Minerva weren't there. "But they are there, aren't they, me dear?" 

He was challenging her. He was hoping to taunt in her into a reaction, so that her temper might snap and she would say what she really felt. He had done it before, it was how he had gotten her to tell him that she loved him for the first time, so she knew the dance she was being dragged into. More fool him, for she knew what he was doing and she was prepared. She straightened up, drawing onto her whole height, and squared her shoulders. She cocked a brow at him, silently informing him that she was ready for the challenge. 

Very thoughtfully, with as much sternness she could muster, she replied: "I wouldn't know. I do not care to dwell on matters which arose twenty years ago. I've moved on." 

A cruel smile played at his lips, a smile he only had for Minerva. "Ah, but you haven't. Your conduct in this very office, not more than two weeks ago, tells me that." 

Her temper threatened to run away with her but she curbed it quickly. "I do believe that you were the instigator, Dumbledore." 

The tension crackled between them. Albus shuffled in his seat so that he sat squarely facing Minerva, his chest puffed out a little. This was how they duelled - with scathing words and witty retorts. As he opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by Molly, who laughed. 

"And, pray, what is so funny?" Minerva questioned. 

"I was just thinking, this is the first time we've been together in a room as a family and you two are already bickering like one," she grinned. 

"We aren't a family," Minerva said through gritted teeth. "You just happen to be related to us both." 

"Just happen to be?" Molly smirked. "No, I don't think so. I always thought that you two hated each other and that was why you always avoided each other. It must have been quite a love affair you two had, for it to make you both so bitter now." 

"I'm not bitter!" Minerva cried defensively. "I broke it off. I ended it-" 

"But you still love him," Molly said, suddenly very serious. "You are your most sharpest and defensive to those you love the most. If you didn't love him, one: you wouldn't mind telling me what happened and why and two: you wouldn't be so wound up." 

"She's right, Minerva," Albus smiled knowingly. "You cannot deny that." 

"So you are ganging up on me? You think that by both of you bullying me, I will give in and admit it and we can finally be one big,happy family?" Minerva scoffed. "Never. Even if I did love you - and that is not an admission or defeat on my part - IF I did, we couldn't be together anyway-"

"You told me that you loved me," he said. "You told me that you would always love me," he slumped back in his chair and grinned, one which resembled Molly's. 

"Fine!" She shouted. "You've got me! Yes, I do love you! Congratulations on dragging that out of me. And don't you start either, young lady, you aren't too old to be sent to bed without supper! Both of you can bask in your victory but it won't change anything. What did you think, Dumbledore? Did you think that by bullying and poking me into admission, I would fall in your arms and we'd live happily ever after? Don't you know me?" 

He waved his hand. "This is just your pride talking. If you let it go-" 

"It is not!" She bellowed and a force of magic split through the room. "I do not appreciate you two ganging up on me when-" Her voice caught in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. "Neither of you understand! Just leave me alone-" 

She stormed past them but she felt Albus grab her wrist and pull her back. 

"Then let me understand," he said softly. "Please. I regret my attitude but please, let me understand you. You've built your walls so high - throw me a rope! Haven't I been asking that since the beginning. Jesus Christ, Minerva! Can't you see how desperate I am?" 

She stared at him and for a moment, the soft, sad look in his eyes weakened her resolve. She would have liked to have told. She knew that if she did, her burden would be at least be shared if not gone but that was the problem - she wouldn't burden him anymore than he already was. And the knowledge of what happened would sit on his chest like a stone, a stone made of disgust, shame and self-blame. She loved him too much to do that to him. 

"No," she whispered. She wrenched herself away and marched from the room. She heard Molly call out to her but Minerva was sobbing and couldn't turn back. 


	16. What Tom Riddle Did

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" Poppy gushed at Albus. Her face was flushed and her eyes hazy and Albus knew that she was merry from the wine. "Just beautiful. I can't believe she's all grown up and married! I delivered her you know, I was the first person to hold her." 

"I know," Albus smiled. 

He couldn't look at Molly, dressed in a simple knee-length white gown with a lace overlay and wearing a white pillar-box hat on her red hair, without filling up with pride. She had only been his daughter for a few months but he had known her nearly all her life and seeing her, so happy on the arm of Mr Weasley, married, Albus couldn't help but smile. She made a lovely, if unconventional bride, and he could see such happiness for them both. Mr Weasley was a decent, honourable man and the two belonged together. They matched as they stood together, dressed to the nines, she talking gregariously and he smiling nervously and turning pink every few minutes. They completed each other, they made a set and Albus couldn't have been more glad, or thankful, that he had been able to share this day with them as Molly's father. 

"And don't you just love, Minerva?" Poppy continued to slur. She leaned his head on his shoulder, smiling as she gazed at Minerva who was cordially mixing with the wedding party, smiling politely at them. "I haven't met anybody like her." 

"Nor have I," he said wistfully. He watched her circle about the room, her dark green dress swirling as she did. She wore her black hair high on her head, softly pulled and pinned in place so that loose curls framed her face, softening it's angular edges. She seemed the brightest that Albus had seen her in years with her face glowing with pride and her lips pulled easily into a wide smile. For the first time in a long time, there was something youthful and easy about her, as if she had forgotten all of her cares and the strife she carried with such rigidity. 

Poppy slapped his chest. "I forgot! You do love her!" She took another sip of her drink. "So you know exactly what I mean! It's such a shame that her life has been full of sadness. First when her family were killed and then she had to run away from you, when she loved you so much. I don't know how she can bare it, I know I wouldn't be able too!" She hiccuped.

Albus hung his head. "She ran away because of me, Poppy." 

Poppy's round face frowned in confusion. "Where on earth have you got that idea? It wasn't because of you, it was because of Tom Riddle." 

"That? No, you are wrong there. That was sorted before she went away." 

"No, No!" Poppy said, her voice becoming louder and louder with each word. "You're wrong. It happened the night before she left. I know because she came to me. You can't have sorted it." 

"I did," Albus declared, now ready to end the conversation. It always shamed him so - it had taken him so long to realise what Riddle was doing. He was supposed to be the greatest wizard of the time and yet, he hadn't been able to see the danger the Minerva had been in until it was almost too late. 

"Then I'm annoyed with you, Albus. You should have killed him." 

"I wanted too. But Minerva stopped me." 

"I wanted to kill him. I've never seen anything like it. When she turned up at my door, I couldn't believe that she was alive, let alone walking and talking. Her face was so battered and bruised, she was unrecognisable, I nearly didn't let her in. I thought it was a stranger hanging about my doorstep." 

"Battered and bruised?" Albus questioned. "What are you talking about?" 

Poppy sighed deeply, exasperated. "Keep up, Dumbledore. He didn't just attack her, he all but maimed her." 

"Attack her? Poppy, I know nothing of an attack." 

Poppy's slack jaw dropped and her skin turned white. "Oh, Albus," she gasped. "I thought we were talking about the same thing!" 

"I thought we were discussing Tom Riddle's use of a love potion on Minerva. What were you talking about?" 

"Nothing, nothing," Poppy turned from him. "I must go, Mrs Weasley has caught my eye and we were partners in herbology, so I feel obliged to speak with her-" 

"No," Albus caught hold of her arm. "What attack? What did he do?" 

Poppy sighed, shaking her head. It took a few moments for her to lift her head and look at him but when she did, the deep sorrow in her dark blue eyes told the story. "But, Albus, you musn't say anything-" 

"I have to go," Albus said dumbly, letting go of Poppy's arm.

His world was reeling. His head span as his skin became cold. In his mind's eye, every memory of Minerva and he during that time flashed up, one by one. He had thought of those times often but never like this. Never had he been able to see the detail or listen to the hidden messages in Minerva's clipped word, or understand the tone. Never before had the pieces fitted together and suddenly, every question he had had was answered. It was as if a brilliant light were blinding him and now, hindsight made everything so much clearer, so much more obvious. He gazed at Minerva across the room and on her face there seemed to appear every blemish, every cut and bruise that must have been there when she went to Poppy's that night. Poppy's skill meant that all was healed when Minerva hurried back to Dumbledore House to pack her things - only, the scars were evidently there, in the way that she seemed to wince every time he went near her, or how she shrank away from him. How could he not have known? How could he not have realised? 

His first instinct, brought on by this news, was to leave the wedding and hunt Riddle down. Albus should have killed him years ago and now he didn't see why he shouldn't - the whole world wanted him dead so Albus was unlikely to be punished for it. He had some suspicions as to his whereabouts so it shouldn't take long to find him. Just as Albus had made up his mind to leave, a tug on his heart stopped him. No, this wasn't Riddle's moment. This was Minerva's. Albus had to tell her that he knew; it seemed as if somehow, that might heal some of the damage. It might help her to know that a man who still loved her knew of her plight and in doing so, he might be able to help her carry some of the burden of it. 

And so, instead of flying away in a blood-thirsty frenzy, Albus glided up to Minerva, took her gently by the arm and pulled her into the empty corridor. 

"Albus, what are you doing? We have guests," she cried irritably as he shut out the wedding party. 

It was dark and still in the corridor, peaceful, save for the low thrum of the music on the other side of the stone wall. he stood a small distance from her, breathing slowly as he tried to find the right words to say. Now in the moment, the task seemed harder to achieve, despite the resolution that this was the most sensible idea he'd had in weeks. He felt her impatience grow as he stared dumbly at the floor, swaying slightly back and and forth as he always did when deep in thought. 

"Has Poppy vexed you?" Minerva asked. "I know she can be a little irritating when she is drunk but she means no insult. She's harmless really." 

"My dear, I-" and the words caught in his throat like a heavy stone formed of shame and heartbreak for the woman he loved. 

"What's wrong? What's happened?" Minerva asked urgently. She turned her head so that she could look at him in eyes, her exquisite face full of concern. "Are you quite alright, Albus?" 

"I know," was all he could whisper. 

Minerva scoffed. "You know I hate it when you are cryptic. I'm much too literal to play such games." 

"I know," he repeated and he lifted his head, his face trying to convey what he couldn't say out loud. 

She surveyed his face for a time and her tightly wound features softened as realisation swept over her. Her green eyes became huge and sparkled with tears. Her heart beat so loudly in her chest he could almost hear it. Her little hands began to tremble and for a moment, it looked as if she might faint. But then, in her usual fashion, she bore herself upright to her full height, her shoulders squared defensively. The shock of his knowledge, which hit her like a ton of bricks, was gone, replaced by the defensive anger at his finding out, which of course was only a mask of her anguish. 

"I'll swing for her," she seethed. "It was not her business to tell-" 

"It wasn't her fault. Our wires crossed," Albus muttered quickly. "We were discussing you and we thought we were on the same subject but... we weren't. Obviously." 

"Obviously!" Minerva snapped. And then, in a softer tone: "I'm so sorry, Albus." 

"What?" 

"I'm so sorry," her voice shook. "I hoped that you would never have to find out." 

"But why?" 

"Because it is my burden, not yours." 

"I thought that I had saved you," he said. "I thought that I had done enough to make him go away. Instead I just made it worse. And I should have known, should have realised. I was too swept up in my knowledge that I had made a difference, my self-assurance, my confidence blinded me." 

"Don't be so ridiculous," Minerva hissed. "I hid it well. You weren't to know. I couldn't let you know, Albus, I couldn't- you really would have killed him and you would have been locked away for your whole life. Like your father was. It would have meant that two decent men were thrown into those abysmal cells for doing nothing but what was right. I couldn't let that happen. Now you know why I had to go. I was so scared that you would find out. If I wasn't there, there was less chance of you finding out. And so I went, to the only place I knew." 

"Your husband - there was never a chance of he being Molly's father was there? It was me... or him." 

Minerva nodded. "When Molly was born, I really couldn't tell whether she was a Dumbledore or...not. Riddle must have found out about her somehow, you remember the owl?" 

"I do." 

"That's why I panicked so. I was terrified that he might try to take her. I wasn't scared for my safety, but hers, and that's why I locked myself away here. Why I've never left. You were here and he couldn't get to me. It's why I was so against this wedding because I know that now she will leave and- he doesn't know that you are Molly's father. At least, I do not think he does... he might go looking for her, Albus." 

"We'll put protection charms on the home they chose," Albus said matter-of-factly. "He won't be able-" 

"We can't do that without telling her and-" 

"She doesn't know," Albus said, slightly relieved. "My dear, she doesn't have to know. We can tell her about the potions, that's cause enough, I should think, to use the charms. If we insist, she'll give in. She's stubborn but not as much as you." 

Minerva laughed lightly. "I suppose," and she sighed. "Well, now you know, Albus. Now you know that when I left you, I still loved you as much as I always did. As much as I do now. It wasn't your fault. We didn't fall apart because of you. And you did save me. I can't thank you enough for that." 

"You shouldn't thank me for anything," Albus said. "Never." 

"It was the hardest thing I ever did, leaving you. It changed our course and we just can't seem to grasp it again," Minerva said sadly. "And I don't think we ever will. There's been a fundamental shift between us, Albus. I still love you and I can't imagine that ever changing but I don't think we will ever be together. I don't think it's in our cards." 

"Oh," Albus's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. 

"I'm confused, did you think that this revelation would change things?" Minerva asked, not unkindly. 

"I don't know, perhaps," he said. "I thought that maybe, this is what lay between us, the wall, if you like. And now that we're on the same page-" 

"But we aren't on the same page," she countered. "Oh, Albus, the wall between us wasn't made up of just that. There's so much more and you know it. When we are together, we aren't the nicest people, in fact, we are quite selfish. We went behind the back of a woman who was only ever made up of kindness and self-sacrifice. We broke all codes of honour and decency. What if that is who we are together? What if we bring out the worst in each other and end up hurting those around us? Poppy? Molly? Our family?" 

"I do not think that the love I feel for you can be anything but pure," Albus said. "Love makes everything... decent." 

Minerva laughed bitterly. "You are too old and too wise to really believe that. In his own twisted way, Tom Riddle thought that he loved me and look how that turned out. No, love doesn't make everything decent. Because of my love for you, I became a liar and that trickled into the love I feel for Molly. I've spent twenty years lying to both of you. I don't want to be that person, Albus. I'm not willing to be that person."

"But, the truth is out. We don't have to lie-" 

"Not at the moment. But really, Albus, think. I know you and you could never give yourself to me, not completely. And I think I need that. I don't know if I could give myself to you either, I've spent so many years alone, but there's more chance of that than you ever opening your soul to me. It would drive us apart, Albus. I don't want to grow to resent you, you are too dear to me. I only ever want to love you." 

"If you are basing your assumption on my marriage to Cordelia, then you must realise that she never asked me to-" 

"And even if she had asked, you wouldn't have been able to. It's just not who you are. There are things you know about the world, about Riddle himself, that you wouldn't divulge to me. And I would have to know. You keep secrets to protect others, like I do I suppose, and we would continue to do that for each other until our whole lives were nothing but secrets and calculated words. The good intention won't make it work. There would be nothing left between us. We'd be strangers, physically in the same but in reality, we would be worlds apart." 

"You really mean this," Albus said quietly. "You won't change your mind." 

"No," Minerva croaked, hardly able to breathe from the pain her own words brought. Saying them aloud only seemed to affirm them. Everything she had said made sense to them both. "I will not change my mind because I am right." 

"So, what Tom Riddle did has broken us? Completely and for good?" 

"No," Minerva whispered. "What Tom Riddle did didn't break us. What we did broke us." 


	17. The Memory He Should Have Left Behind

For the first time in so many years, Minerva found herself venturing beyond the protecting embrace of Hogwarts. 

As she made her way to the apparation point, marching beneath the black gate, and found herself on the outskirts of the castle, she felt uneasy but excited. She hadn't released what a recluse she had become by shutting herself away and she found the world both menacing and engaging. Of course, she hadn't ventured far and wouldn't by the time she reached her destination but still; there was something different about the air outside of Hogwarts, it seemed heavier and calmer without the frission of hundreds of students budding magic. She hadn't admitted it to Poppy but Minerva did feel nervous; she was travelling alone for the first time in nearly twenty years. Poppy had offered to accompany her but Minerva had rejected the offer - wasn't she a grown woman capable of visiting her daughter and new spouse in the home they had just set up? 

Indeed she was! And so, with her feet firmly planted on the apparation point, she closed her eyes and a moment later opened them to find herself on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole - Arthur Weasley's hometown. A number of Minerva's students resided here but she had never visited this small, wizarding town, even in her youth. Stood at the top of a steep hill, gazing down at the quiet town with its narrow, winding lanes and red-roof tiles, Minerva knew exactly why Molly had agreed to move there. It possessed the bounce of life that Molly had always craved and was surrounded by great open spaces. After being shut up in Hogwarts for most of her life, it was no wonder that Molly had jumped at the chance to live amongst her own, to make friends and settle down in this hilly, green world. Minerva thought back to Molly's earlier years, when they had lived in Poppy's cottage and Molly had loved nothing more than to spend her time exploring the garden and waving over the fence at passers by. It was all too clear that Molly had always belonged in a place like this and Minerva had denied her it, with her lies and fears but she quickly quieted those thoughts of shame and self-pity as she turned on her heels and began the promised short walk to The Burrow. 

Minerva wouldn't be able to find it. Once Arthur and Molly had decided upon the house, Albus had quickly fortified it with endless charms and defense spells. Only Molly and Arthur were secret keepers and since Minerva had yet to visit, the house would be hidden from her. Molly had agreed to meet Minerva at the appointed time but as always, Minerva was more than prompt and was a good fifteen minutes early. She would have to wait at the agreed meeting point, in the middle of a grassy clearing, with nothing but birdsong to keep her company. 

And then she heard the crack of a twig, loud and ominous, and the birds fled their branches in fright and took to the skies. Minerva hitched a breath, half-hoping that it was Molly who was behind her, but knowing by the instant chill of her skin that it was not. As Minerva turned, somewhat reluctantly, she was confronted with a face she would recognise for the rest of her life, yet it was a face so much altered, she gasped. 

She hadn't seen Tom Riddle since that awful night and then he had been a young man; a cruel man but whose good looks could not be denied with his clear skin and blue, almost feminine eyes. Now however, any trace of that false beauty was gone, replaced by skin which seemed grey and eyes no longer blue but colourless, benign and devoid of an feeling. They stared at her, creased at the sides in amusement as thin lips curled into a menacing, taunting smile. 

"Minerva," Tom Riddle said. "It's been a long time." 

"Not long enough," Minerva retorted, her voice full of a bravery and surety she hardly felt. She quickly drew her wand. 

He shook his head, laughing lightly. "I haven't come to fight. I've come to meet the girl." 

"What girl?" 

"Molly. I've been looking for her for so many years but you've been a good mother, keeping her buried in the only place in the world I cannot enter," he replied. "I know that she lives here now, with that blood traitor Weasley you allowed her to marry." 

"You won't find her here, Tom." 

He flinched at the name. "I'm no longer used to that name. I call myself-" 

"I know what you call yourself!" Minerva spat. Upon the word 'Molly' a fire had been sparked within her. "A peculiar choice, Tom. Rather childish." 

"Unique, actually," he said. "As far removed from my muggle father as I can get. Now, tell me, when will the girl be arriving?"

"You've wasted your time. She isn't coming," and as she spoke the words, Molly appeared behind Tom Riddle. Minerva caught her breathe as she watched Molly's brow furrow with confusion. When realisation swept across her face, Minerva panicked. The last thing she wanted was Molly rushing to her aide when she should run. As carefully as she could, Minerva indicated to Molly with her wide green eyes to the thick shrubbery which surrounded them. Molly seemed to understand and quickly hid herself but Tom Riddle noticed the flick of Minerva's eyes and turned around. Luckily, Molly was already gone. 

"What are you looking at? Is she here?" 

"No," Minerva quickly said and then to distract him she caught a hold of his arm. "You don't really want to be bothering with her, do you? What use is a young girl like her to you? It's me that ruined your plans all those years ago, not her." 

He turned back and looked briefly at Minerva's hand clutching his arm. "I had nearly won. I nearly had you. A few more days and we would have been married. You wouldn't have been able to get out of it then." He smiled. "Without your protector, you would have been lost." 

"Perhaps," Minerva said. "But I would have come round to the truth eventually." 

"I doubt it," Tom Riddle said. "You were quite...smitten. After our encounter by the cottage, Dumbledore tracked me down and warned me away. I left you, for a little while, but I always knew I'd do the same again. I found you married to that muggle boy-" 

"Don't talk about him," Minerva said. 

"Shame, what happened to him. Funny how they never found the driver of that car, you know, the one that-" 

"You should have left Sam alone!" Minerva cried. "He was innocent in all of that!"

"I couldn't sit by and let my child be reared by a disgusting muggle!" 

"Your child?" Minerva questioned and then she realised - Tom Riddle still thought that Molly was his. She had thought that he'd come to kill Molly knowing that she was a Dumbledore but as always with Tom Riddle, his ego blinded him to the truth. 

"Come now, Minerva, you think that I couldn't work it out? It's been twenty-one years since... I saw you and Molly Weasley is twenty years old," he grinned, triumphant in his knowledge. "There is nothing muggle about her. I had hoped to slip you another brew at the funeral but when I arrived who did I see but Dumbledore? Still following you like a lost pup, trying to hide his glee at the muggle's convenient death." 

"Not everybody is as disgusting as you are, Tom," Minerva hissed. 

"I'm sure that he was pleased! Why wouldn't he be when he has been after you as much as I have? I bet he rejoiced upon the death of his wife, thinking that he'd finally have you. I have to say, I'm jubilant that he hasn't succeeded." 

"He was devastated when Cordelia died. We both were." 

Tom Riddle waved a hand. "You maybe but I doubt Albus Dumbledore really was. All this talk about me, saying that I am a monster, incapable of true kindness or love and yet, nobody dares mention how Dumbledore is so very like me. He can be as manipulative, cold and selfish but everybody forgives him, simply because he masks it with valiant words and goodness. At least I do not deceive as he does! In reality, we are the same man-"

"How dare you?" Minerva said through barred teeth. "How dare you? Albus is nothing like you! After all you have done, to me let alone the rest of the world, how dare you make such a comparison?" 

Tom Riddle suddenly moved closer to her, his cold hand grasping the wrist which kept her wand pointed at him so that she was forced to drop it. She was surprised to find that she didn't cry out in pain or fear; instead, her terror dumbfounded her, causing her mouth to remain clamped shut and her body to freeze. All she could do was watch him, her bright green eyes wide with fear, as the grass stopped moving in the wind and the life drained from the trees which surrounded them. It seemed as if the world grew smaller, as if it grew dark as it shrank inwards, towards them, threatening to suffocate her. All Minerva could think about was the night by the cottage, how she hadn't been able to read his movements and pre-empt what was about to happen. She'd been taken by surprise that time, when she had felt sure of herself, of her power to outwit. Now, she knew, there was no chance of her doing so; his movements were the same, his face as still and cold and all Minerva could do was close her eyes and try to lose herself in the good memories she had, to leave her body and travel time. 

"We are one of the same," Tom Riddle whispered in her ear. "You deny it now but there will come a day when you stop seeing Albus Dumbledore as the greatest man to ever draw breath. There will come a day when you realise what a cunning, lying and cruel monster he is." 

She couldn't speak and it made her ashamed. She should have been defending the man who had saved her all those years ago, the man who was the father of her only, brilliant child but the fear which had taken over her body, which had fused her bones and turned her blood to tar, had wired her mouth shut and made her forget that she had a voice. He had pulled it out of her, just as he had always been able too. Tom Riddle always seemed to break the tempestuous and forbidding Minerva McGonagall; he seemed to know how to steal the courage and strength from her soul until all she was was a trembling, useless shell. She hated him for it but hated herself more for allowing him to do it to her. She hated that even now, twenty-one years later, she was still the weak, unable girl she'd been. How could it be that he still had this hold on her? How could it be she that hadn't grown at all in those years? 

"Minerva," Tom Riddle said and his hand moved from her wrist to her elegant throat, causing her to flinch. 

As she braced herself, tensing her body and forcing her soul to depart her body, a great orange flash lit up the woods and a great gust of wind shook Minerva's skirts. She opened her eyes and saw Albus, his wand drawn and his long face full of thunder, and she could have fainted with relief. It was the same image of him that she had yearned for the last time Tom Riddle had crept up on her, so acutely accurate, in fact,that she hardly dared to believe it was real until Tom Riddle moved to the side, his face panicked, and began duelling. A loud crack of thunder in the suddenly black sky brought Minerva back to her senses and she quickly dropped to her knees, grabbed her wand and shot a hex at Tom Riddle, which surprised him so that it gave her enough time to climb to her feet and rush towards Albus. Before she could reach him however, Tom Riddle had aimed his wand at her and she found her feet suddenly glued to the floor. Unable to move, she tried to call out to Albus but no noise rose from her throat. Tom Riddle had cast a silencing spell but Minerva continued to scream anyway, tears of frustration filling her eyes, in the hope that Albus would notice and realise what had happened. 

Albus did realise. His eyes locked with Minerva's for a split second, he nodded and turned back to Tom Riddle, blasting curse after curse at him. Tom Riddle and Dumbledore continued to duel, both of them diving and scooting around hex after hex, curse after curse, until Tom Riddle let out a great roar and a great winged beast emerged from his wand, it's beak snapping at Albus as Tom Riddle turned into a mass of black, ink looking substance and disappeared. Minerva's legs were finally freed as Tom Riddle vanished and she felt her voice return, like a great lump which sat in her throat. 

As she rushed towards Albus, he marched towards her and when they met, Minerva grabbed a hold of his shoulders and shook him. "Molly? Molly! Is she alright?" She asked fervently. "Albus? Is she alright?" 

"Fine," Albus placed a cool hand on Minerva's own to calm her. "She called for me. When I got here and she explained what was happening, I ordered her back to The Burrow. She put up a fight, of course, after all, she is your daughter, but I managed to persuade her. She's fine."

Shock and relief seemed to flood through Minerva all at once and she fell against his chest. Her bottom lip trembled and she was on the verge of tears but Minerva quickly swallowed them down and took a deep breath. "I was so worried that he was going to leave me and go off and find her. Albus, he still believes that Molly is his." 

She saw him wince a little before he replied: "Perhaps that is best. Perhaps that is the best garantee we have of her safety."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Minerva said quietly. "But what will happen if he finds out?" 

"I... I've been mulling that thought over for some time and-" he coughed nervously. "I think I have a plan. But we shouldn't discuss it here. We should get back to Molly and Arthur. I'll explain then." 

* 

"No!" Molly cried. "That's just awful. I won't do it!" 

They were sat in Molly's snug little sitting room; Molly, Arthur and Poppy (who had been all but summoned by Minerva) on the faded peach sofa, Minerva on a high back dining chair and Albus on a low arm chair. The clock which stood by the staircase ticked loudly in the shocked silence, a shock caused by Albus's plan to keep Molly safe. Poppy's face was pursed in thought but Minerva could tell by the glint in her bright eyes that she agreed with the plan. Arthur's cheeks turned a shade pinker, his face full of concern for his wife, whose round face was like thunder. 

"It might be the only way," Poppy said quietly, not looking at the girl. "Try to think-"

"I will not!" Molly cried again. "It's ridiuclous! How can you expect us to do that? Why should we suffer because of him?" 

"We will all suffer if something should happen to you, Molly," Arthur murmured. "And I'm willing to do anything to keep you safe. To keep you alive." 

"That's easy for you to say," Molly snapped. "You aren't the one losing your family-" 

"I'm trying to put my family first!" Arthur said sternly, causing Poppy and Minerva to look at each other with raised brows. "Our family, Molly." 

Molly closed her eyes and sighed. "I can't do it, Arthur," she whispered. 

Arthur caught a hold of Molly's hands. "Yes, you can. You are the strongest woman I know, Molly. And I know you'll do what is right. Think of the baby, darling. You'd never forgive yourself if something were to happen and you hadn't tried everything in your power to stop it." 

"Excuse me," Minerva barked. "What baby? What is he talking about, Molly?"

With a sad, forlorn smile and tears rolling down her round face Molly said: "That's why I asked you to come. To tell you that I'm going to have a baby."

Poppy cried out in delight as she wrapped her arms around Molly, kissing her head and Albus laughed contenedly, smiling. But all Minerva could do was sit still and stare sadly at her child. Her own baby was going to have a baby and Minerva couldn't quite take that in. Just as when she had been married, Minerva felt as if time had pushed forward too quickly, leaving Minerva behind. Her own daughter was to be a mother, she was to become what Minerva was but wrapped in Poppy's arms, she seemed so small, so delicate... so young. 

"Mum? Are you angry?" 

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Minerva immediately smiled as best she could. "No, my darling, of course not. I'm delighted." 

"You don't look it," Molly said frankly. 

"I'm just," Minerva quickly wiped away tears which threatened to escape from her eyes. "I'm just reminded of how old I am!" She laughed. "Congratulations, both of you. It's wonderful news." 

"Do you understand now why it is so important that you agree to this?" Albus asked quietly. "It is not about you, anymore, but your child." 

"But I don't understand. How will it protect me? What difference does it make whether he finds out that I'm half Dumbledore? At the moment he thinks I'm half-blood anyway, with a dead muggle father." 

Minerva, Poppy and Albus all shot each other looks as their minds frantically searched for an answer. Minerva was desperate to keep the knowledge of what Tom Riddle did from her. 

"It's safer this way," Albus whispered. "You'll just have to trust me." 

"Mum - do you agree with this?" 

"It's breaks my heart to lose you but yes, I agree with Albus's plan," Minerva replied. "But tell me, Albus, will you keep your memories?" 

"No. I debated it but it's best if we all forget. I'll rid you and Poppy of any memories of Molly. I'll create a new history for Molly, a new family and Molly and Arthur will only know of us three as Professors. Once I've done that, I'll take my own memories and lock them away with the rest. One day, in a better world, I hope, I can give them all back." 

It was a brilliant, if heartbreaking plan. In fact, it was the only thing Albus had been able to think of. He knew that by altering their memories, he might be able to save Molly from bearing any pain. It was a clean cut solution, one that would only cause misery in the moment. Afterward, once his work was done, none of them would be able to hurt because they wouldn't know what they had lost. It was complicated magic, magic he was quite capable of but he had hoped that it would never come to it. The awful episode in the clearing by the wood, however, had forced his hand. All the while that Molly had ties to them, she was in danger. If the knowledge of her parentage ever reached Riddle then it would mean her destruction. he couldn't expect her to spend the rest of her life at Hogwarts, as Minerva had, and that was the only place that he could keep her completely safe. if Riddle were to come to The Burrow to kill Molly, Albus might not be able to make it in time. 

And so, with a heavy heart, he said: "Minerva, you should say good-bye and return to the castle with Poppy. If you would wait for me in my office, I'll be there shortly." 

Minerva watched as Poppy and Molly cried in each others arms. Poppy kissed her cheek and left to wait outside. 

Suddenly, it was Minerva's turn to say goodbye. Her heart was shattering as she tottered over to her daughter, her mind frantically trying to find the words to say, her body searching for the strength to say them. Silently, she wrapped her arms around Molly, crushing her closer, kissing the top of her head. "My darling," she croaked through the great lump which sat in her throat. "Molly, I just know that we will know each other once again. This is temporary, I promise. I love you, so so much. I've loved you from the minute you were born. When Poppy placed you in my arms I- Well, I felt complete. You'll know, when you hold your own child for the first time. In about five minutes, this won't hurt anymore. You'll only know love and happiness from your own family. I love you." 

"I love you too, Mum," Molly sobbed. "Thank you for everything." 

With one last vital squeeze, they broke apart. Blinded by tears, Minerva nodded at Arthur and fled to Poppy outside. 

The two women didn't speak at all as they returned to Hogwarts. Sat in Albus's office, Poppy muffled her sobs with her hands as Minerva let the tears fall silently. Soon it would all be over, she wouldn't feel anything but that was no consolation. She was about to willingly forget her own daughter and she would rather feel pain and misery for the rest of her life than do that. The knowledge that it would keep her alive, however, gave her the strength to bear it, when all she wanted was to flee from it and change her mind. 

When Albus arrived, Minerva stepped outside whilst he took Poppy's love and memories. When Poppy emerged, she smiled at Minerva, happily oblivious but her sadness still evident in the redness of her eyes. With a deep breath and shaking hands, Minerva went back in. 

Albus looked as if he'd been awake for a hundred days. Dark circles clung to his eyes, eyes which were misty with anguish and his skin was grey and matte. He sat at the chair behind his desk with stooped shoulders, his mouth thin and sombre. He smiled wanly at Minerva as she came in and invited her to sit down by the fire. He rose from his seat and with leaden, heavy steps, padded across the stone floor to occupy the bright blue armchair next to her. He didn't speak for some time and instead watched the flames as they danced and ate at the smouldering logs, the shadows of firelight reflecting in his blue eyes. They seemed a duller blue, lacking their myrth. 

"Albus," Minerva said tentatively. "I must make a request." 

"Yes, my dear?" He asked, without looking away from the fire. 

"You must keep the memory of what Tom Riddle did with me." 

"What?" He snapped his head up and looked at her. "Why?" 

"Because I must remember our... yours and my love affair," she replied. Then she laughed bitterly. "If it can be called that." 

"I think it can be," he muttered. 

"Well, I must remember it and what he did is a part of that," Minerva said. 

"Why must you remember us?" 

"So that I cannot repeat it," she said frankly. "If I were to forget and then spend countless hours with you here, at the school, I am sure that I will fall in love with you again and seek out some sort of relationship." 

"You were young when-"

"No," Minerva cut across, her voice adamant. "No, I would have always fallen in love with you, no matter what my age." 

"But, if I were to take away that memory, you need not feel the pain of it. You need not carry the weight of it and Minerva, I want nothing more than to be able to do that for you," Albus said. 

She shook her head. "I need it. I need the pain of losing you, even if I never had you. And I need the pain of what happened because... because I need to wary of him. I need to know exactly what he can do. Promise me, you'll leave it be." 

He nodded but said nothing. He drew his wand and with a soft voice began reciting the required charms. The memories floated towards him, every memory she held of Molly; starting with this afternoon, drifting to the wedding and beyond. Beautiful, colourful memories of Molly's childhood, of her birth. He went deeper into her mind, scouring it for any trace of the daughter that she had for forget until he reached the darkness - the haunting, chilling memory of that night by Poppy's cottage. The great white moon loomed over Minerva, lighting her wonderful face, until the clouds rolled over it and Tom Riddle appeared. Albus did not want to see this. Albus should not have delved this far but as he tried to leave, something drew him in. He witnessed the whole, horrid affair; the brutality of it. He felt her desperation, he felt her love for Albus and he endured her pain. No. He couldn't live it in there. He was sure that Molly was the only reason Minerva had been able to fight the demons she held and without them, with the bitter image of what Tom Riddle had done, followed by years of loneliness might break her. She didn't deserve that; a life without love. 

And so, he took the memory and any of Albus himself. He took the darkness and the light and he freed her. 


	18. Minerva's Declaration

Twelve years after her memories were taken, an unknowing Minerva McGonagall paced frantically around her living room. 

She'd been up since dawn, had laid awake for hours before then, and had spent most of the morning trying to still the revolting heart within her. What had sparked this revolution, she did not know, but she did know that after hours of trying, there would be no conquering it. The heart which had been threatening to take over for months had finally done so and now Minerva was filled with a heady mix of excitement, longing and disappointment.

A part of her was as excited as a school girl, foolishly believing that any action she might take would lead onto a life of joy and ease. Her heart fluttered wildly at the prospect, so wildly that she could almost forget that she was a middle-aged woman, staring old age in the face. She could forget that little strands of bright silver now crept daily through her dark hair or that her piercing green eyes were surrounded by lines, no matter if her face was set plainly or screwed up with frustration. The excitement, which seemed to stupidly deduct years from her, she knew came from that awful feeling she had been trying to deny for some time. Even now, as she paced her own living room, with her mind racing and her heart pounding, she could not bring herself to name it, for fear that to give it a name would give it power over her. She couldn't have that. She could not have a feeling, a feeling which she had avoided becoming entangled with for her whole life, having some sort of power over a soul which she held as her very own. Nobody had known her soul and she had thought that nobody would. She was well suited to the Spinster life; a life without complication or drama and she hadn't sought to change it, especially not at this age, and she was both disappointed and frustrated with herself for letting any feeling that might encroach on that lifestyle taking hold. 

She wasn't about to lie and admitted that the feeling was not sudden. She had felt it creeping up on her, like a shadow, for many years she now supposed but she had always thought that her sensibility would endure. She always thought that her clear, one-tracked and determined mind would steer her away from ever accepting such feelings and yet, her brilliant mind, her greatest weapon, had let her down. Even that had been taken over, with one half agreeing with the foolish heart and the other reminding Minerva of who she had become. Minerva and the sensible half were losing terribly as heart and mind took over her body and fought against her. Something within her had snapped the previous night, as Minerva had sat alone and flipped through a dull book. Her unused mind had been able to wander, and as it did through passages and stairwells, a sharp pain cut at her heart and bitterness poured through the wound. Bitterness and yearning. She had felt like a child, unknowing to life and yet, it had been enough to keep her up all night. In fact, the sharp pain had grown greater with each passing minute, as she decided that she would keep her mouth shut and continue as normal. Her decision had caused her to cry, to cry hopelessly as if she had lost everything in the world. A life without hope had seemed to break the cracking heart until it had been able to manipulate half her mind and try to bring Minerva around to changing her hopeless fate. 

Perhaps it was not hopeless. Perhaps by taking a chance, Minerva might alter her life completely and be blinded by how fantastic it would become. 

Minerva snorted and stamped her foot - how could she be so ridiculous? Hadn't she lived enough years to know that, that was a fools dream? Didn't she know that life hardly ever turned out to be fantastic and that chances taken sometimes resulted in despair? But even she had to admit to herself that she had never properly lived. She'd been alive for many years, yes, but she hadn't many experiences under her belt to be able to claim to be a master at life. She'd never been in love nor had she ever wanted to be. She had never been loved romantically. She had never had her heart broken, except of course, when her family had been killed but even she knew that to be a different sort of heartbreak. 

No, how could she claim to know what path her actions might take her on when in reality, she was an ageing spinster, tucked up within the stone walls of the castle. The furthest she had ever ventured into the world was Hogsmeade and even that was technically on castle grounds. Ever since Cordelia Dumbledore had died and her husband had left the house, Minerva had lived at Hogwarts, day after day. She was the only Professor who did not leave during the holidays - her childhood home had been blown to smithereens and the Dumbledore house had been closed up for decades - and she was not quite sure why. A small part of her knew that it wasn't just because she didn't have a place to go, after all, there was Poppy's cottage but there was something which always held her back. It was almost a survival instinct - but instinct about what? She didn't know but it kept her locked in the castle and had done for years, letting her live a life of sweet monotony but a life without experiences. 

She was a clever witch, capable and strong, but everything she knew about life had been gained through second-hand knowledge. She had read about heartbreak in novels, she had seen misery on her students faces. She knew about life's mistakes from her fellow professors and she had seen ten-fold what frivolous, stupid decisions could do to a person. But she couldn't speak from her own knowledge and for the first time, that seemed... sad. For the first time she was analysing the empty life she had led and wondered if she should be brave and embrace something new. Had she become too comfortable in her sensibility? In her proud determination to remain as aloof and uncomplicated she could, had she simply taken the easy route which would, in the end, prove to be pathetic and pointless? Her way of life had lost its charm, all in one night, and now she felt as if she must do something. 

Was denying the overpowering feeling being sensible or cowardly? Deep down, was she avoiding acceptance out of fear of being hurt or pushed from the trail her life was taking? 

She didn't know and she wouldn't know unless she did something. She did know that she would never know peace if she did not try to tame her restless soul and there was only way one to do that. Luckily, her sensibility would shine - it could be used to her advantage - and so, with her mind finally made up, she marched from her sitting room, across the school to the Headmaster's office. Before she could change her mind, she banged loudly on the wood door and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to call out. When he did, she entered with her head held determinedly high, her face set as it always was and sat across the desk from him. 

Albus smiled at her as she sat and without reaching for his wand which sat across the way from him, his papers which he had been reluctantly reading rose from the desktop and floated above their heads to an overstuffed cabinet. " Good morning, my dear," he said lightly. "I was just about to have a cup of tea, care to join me?" 

"Yes, thank you," Minerva said. She crossed one leg elegantly over the over. "You won't be able to find those papers when you want them again, Albus. That cabinet is shameful - shouldn't you perhaps try to organise a little?" 

Albus grinned. "That's what magic is for. I can just use a summoning charm." 

"But, if you haven't yet read them all, how will you know what to summon?" Minerva retorted tartly. 

"Touche, Minerva," he said. "What brings you-"

"Please, let me speak, before I lose my nerve," she closed her eyes, expecting to feel her nerves bundle into a knot in her stomach. For the few fleeting moments she allowed herself an examination, however, she was surprised to find no nerves, only a driving force to finally speak out. "Believe me, I am not speaking out on a whim. It's been a long time coming, years in fact, but for reasons I cannot explain, I am suddenly overwhelmed and cannot remain silent. You must know that I expect nothing from my declaration, except self solace, and I would prefer it, if once declared, you might move on from it and we can remain as we are. I do not know if this will change things. I do not know if I am doing the right thing but I cannot know until it is done," Minerva noticed that Albus was watching her intently and she was a little worried to see that his face seemed to glow faintly with hope and expectation, though she didn't know why. She took a deep breath and, without looking at him and instead, playing with the hem of her sleeve, she said: "It seems, Headmaster, that even I am not immune to matters of the heart. I, who always believed myself to be removed from such...antics, have been swept up into a world I had never cared to know. I do not claim to wish to settle here but I do need to unburden. And so, I must unburden to you. I'm in love with you, Albus." 

"Oh," he said blindly, as he sat back in his chair. "I was not expecting that... so early in the morning." 

"Quite," Minerva smiled tightly. She shook her head and rose from her seat. "Look, I know how ridiculous I am. Look at me, a fully grown woman well past her youth and looks, declaring her love as if it might change the world! I'm sorry to have bothered you, Albus, I-" and she made to leave, rushing from the room head down. 

"Minerva - wait!" Albus called. She had meant to ignore him but found herself being pulled back gently by the wrist. "Why are you running away?"

"I hate to look a fool, Albus, you know that," she answered, still looking at the floor. "And I feel like a fool." 

"You shouldn't," he whispered. "Not at all. For you, of all people, to declare such a thing is brave. Not at all foolish, my dear." 

"Very well, I have been brave then," she snapped impatiently. "Now, I will leave."

"Don't I deserve to respond to your... outpourings?" He grinned. 

"Fine," she said and looked up to find him staring at her with such adoration that she furrowed her brows in confusion. 

"Minerva, I must tell you that I have been waiting for years to hear your beautiful words," he said softly. "Waiting without hope that they would ever come."

Minerva's bright green eyes searched his and there, amongst the dazzling shades of blue, sat a deep sincerity which Minerva had not been expecting. All of her hours of preparation, all of the time she had spent examining her own heart had prepared her for her own declaration, of any relief of her burdened soul once she had spoken, but she hadn't taken the time to imagine what might happen afterwards. She had only ever imagined fleeing almost immediately, scurrying away back to her apartments to lick her wounds. Never had she considered what Albus's reaction might be. Perhaps she would have been less shocked, less stunned if Albus had been angry with her, or awkward or... well anything, except what he was. She would have been able to deal with any reaction other than this one; this one of tenderness, of relief and hope. What was she supposed to do now? What was she supposed to say? After all, her limited vision of how this scenario would have turned out never ventured further in time than this moment. 

She was kicking herself now for her stupidity. She'd jumped into this without a plan, without any knowledge of what she wanted now. She'd told him that she loved him and now, she believed that Albus was trying to return the sentiment. Yes, it was better than a straight rejection but it was full of complications Minerva had never anticipated. The situation was not closed but broken open even more - a declaration of love was not the end and Minerva had been too swept up in her own feelings to consider that. What would Albus expect from her now? What did she want from this? She winced inwardly; why hadn't she taken more time to think? Why had she let her heart run away with her? She should have know that this would be foolish, she should have known that the matter wouldn't be closed. 

"I love you, Minerva," he said earnestly and his hand moved from her wrist to her hand, which he took completely in his own and squeezed.

Searching Minerva's face and seeing no objections, he placed an arm around her waist and gently pulled her closer to him. Minerva let herself be pulled closer, an ache of anticipation filling her heart and without a thought, she found her arm slip around his shoulders. Her heart was pounding, she did not know whether from desire or nerves, and she remained still, waiting for what he would do next. For a long moment, he didn't move, just stared beautifully at her, before he stroked her cheek with his free hand. There was something about that action, the softness of it, the devotion behind it that made Minerva realise that he was going to kiss her - 

And she panicked. 

She couldn't let him kiss her before she knew what was going to happen. She couldn't allow herself to get lost with him, to forget herself, without knowing what either of them wanted. No, she was sure that to kiss him now would be her downfall and so she pushed him sharply, de-tangling herself and leaping away so that a few large paces stood between them. Albus's arms dropped to his side, his face full of disappointment, his mouth pursed with sadness. He nodded slowly, seemingly accepting that he had read the situation incorrectly.

All Minerva could do was stand and stare at him as her mind twisted and swirled about her, uncontrollable, untamable. It was the first time in her life that Minerva did not have control of her mind and it frightened her more than Albus kissing her would have done. Was this what love was? To lose control? To lose oneself in a fit of passion and devotion? This was so much more than Minerva had been prepared for and she started to regret ever having anything. She decided that living in turmoil of a love unsaid had to be better than this confusion, this uncontrollable feeling, this pressure? She might have been able to cope better with a restless soul than to have her self-control taken from her. 

"I apologise, Minerva, I didn't mean to offend-" 

"You haven't offended me," Minerva blurted. "That wasn't why-" she shook her head and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, damn it, what have I done? I should never have said anything, I haven't thought this through at all." 

"What do you mean? Did you not mean what you said?" Albus asked. 

"Oh, no," Minerva said evenly. "If there is one thing I am sure of at this very moment it's that I love you." Her voice was plain and she felt such conviction in them that she felt as if were coming back to herself, finally, and was finally taking the reins of her soul. Instead of confusion, she felt determination, brought on by the question of her love for him, which she now realised, she would defend fervently for the rest of her life. "I love you, Albus, I love you-" 

And it was as if something snapped within her and every doubt, every question melted away until all she saw before her was the man she loved. For the first time, she let it control her, she let the depth of her feeling take a hold of every bone, of every nerve and casting all doubt aside, she marched to him and they came crashing together, their mouths crushing each other's hungrily. His hands ran through her dark hair as she pressed herself harder against him, standing on her toes in order to cut the height difference between them - anything to close the space between them, anything to be as close as humanly possible to him. The strength of her love, the depth of her need for him, enthralled her. The thirst for life she had carried in her youth, her need to devour everything around her was renewed, awakened within her and she knew that he was the reason for it. It was if her grey, lonely world had burst into a thousand bright colours. She felt as if she hadn't existed before and now, with him, she was alive, alive with a purpose and newfound meaning she had never known before. 

The urgency of their long-awaited kiss slowed until Albus broke away and kissed the top of Minerva's head. He sighed deeply, pulling her into a soft embrace as she leaned her head against his shoulder. They were back on dangerous ground, she knew, because the comforting silence, the stillness of time allowed her mind to catch up, allowed the worries to slip through and she became wholly frustrated with herself. Why couldn't she just be lost again? Why did she always have to think, to analyse? What was wrong with her? 

"My dear, I think we need to talk," Albus said softly. "I hate to ruin the moment but there are things we should discuss...logistics, if you like." 

And Minerva could have cried with relief. It wasn't only her who needed to define what was happening, Albus wanted too as well. Perhaps she wasn't crazy - perhaps he had his doubts as well, after all, as far as she knew he hadn't been in any kind of relationship since his wife had died, over thirty years ago. She wondered if he was as nervous as she, if he had rushed head first as well, without considering any of the consequences. 

"I would like that," Minerva beamed. 

He grinned and kissed her hand. "Would you like to come to my sitting room? It's a little less formal than my office." 

Minerva shook her head. "I think a degree of formality is needed. You know me, I work better this way. I'll be able to keep a much clearer head if I were to sit in the uncomfortable chair opposite you at your desk." 

"As you wish," he said and glided across the office and around the desk. He sat forward in his chair, his lower arms laying flat on the desk and his hands clasped together. He gazed at her intently, his long face a mixture of pure delight and concern. As Minerva shuffled awkwardly in the chair across from him and arranged her features so that she might look stern and unphased, he said: "You have a face of steel, Minerva. A smile perhaps? Love does not come around often." 

Minerva blushed. "I-I'm sorry, I just-" she shrugged and laughed bitterly. "I don't know what I am doing, Albus! Pathetic, isn't it?"

"No," Albus said. "How is it pathetic?" 

"I am a middle-aged woman and I have no idea what to do," Minerva sighed. "I thought that telling you that I loved you would be the hard part. I hadn't considered what might happen after. You may have to take the reins on this, Headmaster, for I do not know the course." 

Albus smiled encouragingly at her. "It is not a treacherous one. I must simply know what you hope to achieve today." 

"I am not a student," Minerva snapped impatiently. "Please do not treat me like one." 

"I didn't mean too... I'm sorry. I have to admit that I'm a little nervous myself. I have been waiting for more years that I care to admit for you to tell me that you love me. Perhaps 'waiting' is not the right word... hoping. I have been hoping." 

"If you had given me any indication of that, I would have come sooner," Minerva said. "I have held back out of fear that you might not feel the same about me as I do you. I worried that telling you would be improper, especially because of Cordelia." 

Albus furrowed a brow. "What has Cordelia got to do with this?" 

Minerva crossed one leg other the other and glared at the floor. "I, well, I-" she coughed. "Please do not judge me, Albus. I am so grateful to you and Cordelia for what you did for me when my family were killed. You gave me a home. Cordelia was - is- very dear to me, I hold a great affection for her and I still feel as if... as if I am betraying her memory. She was only ever sweet and kind towards me, she never treated me like a stranger, from the moment I arrived she accepted me-"

"Minerva, you are avoiding my question." 

"Yes. I suppose I am," Minerva chewed her bottom lip. "I starting falling in love with you long before Cordelia died. It started a few months after I came to live with you and- Oh, I know how it sounds! It's a terrible, terrible thing. It's such a cruelty towards Cordelia..." 

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," Albus said softly. "I must also confess to having developed feelings of love towards you whilst you lived at the house. And I wouldn't worry about Cordelia, she knew how you felt." 

Minerva paled. "What? How do you know that?" She felt sick. What kind of monster was she to have betrayed the kindest woman who had ever walked the earth? 

"She told me. She said that you were in love with me and I you. When I tried to deny it, she simply smiled at me, that knowing smile she had..." Albus smiled sadly. He still missed his wife. He missed her companionship and often felt the need to talk to her. She was the only person he had ever been able to unburden to, completely, and she was the only person he trusted completely as well. "But you mustn't worry, Minerva. Our marriage was not a conventional one." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Another time, I promise," he said. "But for now, Cordelia is gone and you shouldn't feel as if you are betraying anybody." 

"Except myself," Minerva muttered. 

"Why do you think that?" 

"I always thought myself impervious to love, or any sentimentality at all. I feel as if I have been defeated. As if I have made myself vulnerable. After all, what can become of it?" 

"Well, we could embark on a relationship," Albus offered, his tone hopeful and a little amused. 

Minerva rolled her bright green eyes. "Doesn't that sound ridiculous to you? Aren't we too old to be fussing over our hearts?" 

"Minerva, I'll be frank because being gentle is getting us nowhere," Albus said, suddenly serious. "If you think I am going listen whilst you talk yourself out of what could be the greatest thing we could do with our lives because you are worried about your age, then you are a fool. I don't care how old you are, or how old I am - I love you. I want to be with you. I might even go as far as to say that I hope you marry you one day. I have lived alone for thirty years because I could only ever love you. I have watched you during that whole time, wondering why you so stubbornly remained alone when you could have had love, passion and companionship. And I don't mean from me - no, I always assumed that you would find someone else, someone who hasn't known you since you were born, someone closer in age, someone who hasn't a trunk of secrets they drag through life with them. Someone uncomplicated. But, from what you have just said, you don't want anybody else. You want me. You love me. And I don't think that we should waste anymore of our lives." 

Minerva couldn't say anything. Every word of his was right, completely and unequivocally right. She had wasted her life. She had wasted her youth. What had she to show for her years on earth? No beautiful home, no husband, no children. She hadn't a great, broken love affair to reminisce about; she hadn't any great magical discovery to boast about. She had nothing but four small rooms at the top of a tower to call home, no love to speak of except that she felt for Poppy. This was her chance to make something of her life. Her chance to find her place. Albus was offering her the world and she should take it, no questions asked. 

She suddenly realised that she wanted this. She wanted to be with him, heart and soul. She knew that in order to make it work, she would have to accept the unknown. She was going to have to embrace a new course of her life, one that she could not be in complete control of. And she was going to do it. She was going to love him, openly and freely. She was tired of being cold and stern; of being ridiculed as an old maid, of being misunderstood. She had been looking for a meaning to her life for as long as she could remember - perhaps it had been Albus all along. 

And so, Minerva rose gracefully from her seat, marched purposefully to him and sat on the edge of the desk. She cupped his face with both hands, leaned in and kissed him. She hoped that she was conveying her feeling to him, her acceptance of their new life together. He responded eagerly, wrapping one hand around her waist and placing the other at the back of her neck as he gently guided her down so that she lay across the desk. She felt the weight of him press her into the hard surface as he followed her and they remained interlocked for the rest of the morning. 

It was the most divine morning Minerva had ever known and would have been perfect, had it not been for the niggling feeling Minerva could not shake - she had kissed Albus like this before, she was sure of it, she just couldn't remember it.  

 


	19. If You'll Have Me

A dream had been awakened in Minerva. A dream that she hadn't known had been within her but was startingly vital once it emerged. It filled her soul, as familiar as an old friend, as elusive as a long-forgotten dream. A dream of a full life, a life no longer lived alone and despite herself, Minerva felt as if she would be happy for the rest of her life. She no longer cared how childish that was, she was sure that she would be capable at ensuring her own happiness for the rest of time. Love had finally conquered Minerva's heart, powerful and enriching, and she was surprised to find that she wanted it to lodge there, she suddenly wanted it to define her. It was no longer a weakness, a thing to be ashamed of, but something glorious, more precious than any earthly thing and she no longer cared that she hadn't a grip on herself. In fact, she had already lost a part of her soul, given to him with two willing hands and she was delighted. 

Her delight was evident in her face. A glow of hope lit up her striking features, her green eyes were bright and sparkling and her mouth was pulled into a smile that could light up the world. She felt as if she no longer walked with her feet on the ground, as if the chill in her body had been blown away and she could only feel warmth. Never had she thought that she would feel as if she were finally complete, as if she had found the very thing she hadn't known that she had been searching for, for the whole of her life. For the first time, she had no idea what direction her life was taking but it didn't bother her, she would gladly wander dumbly in the darkness with him. It was a new adventure, a new page had turned and Minerva could finally feel the excitement of life. She could finally understand what a gift it was to be of living, breathing flesh and bone. She knew now that her purpose was not to follow the monotonous straight line of life but to dance around it, skipping and jumping, into whatever the future held. 

In the space of an hour, that very morning, Minerva's world had shifted, shifted to a plain that simply felt right... as if it were always supposed to be. She couldn't hide it, the joy burst through her skin, a heavenly, luminous light that dazzled. It would soon be plain for everyone to see; any hope that she might keep it a delicious secret was broken within a few moments of saying goodbye for when she knocked at Poppy's apartments and her dear friend opened the door, Poppy's light brow had furrowed in deep thought. 

"Something's happened," she remarked. "Something... is different about you." 

Minerva could only grin like a schoolgirl as she entered Poppy's living room and flopped onto the small sofa by the fireplace. Her heart was bursting with anticipation; she was dying to tell Poppy what had happened but a small wave of doubt slipped through her - she hadn't any idea what Poppy would think, once the shock had passed. She might mirror Minerva's own doubts, doubts she had now willingly tossed aside, but she might bring Minerva back down to the cold ground. When everything was so new, did she want Poppy to rein her in so soon? Minerva was beginning to regret her visit' not for the first time that day she had followed instinct and it might not have been the right thing to follow. 

"So? What have you been up to this morning?" Poppy chimed. 

Minerva sighed whimsically, an action so far removed from the usual Minerva that Poppy's mouth fell open. 

"Oh, Poppy, I'm not even sure where to begin. I - " And she laughed lightly. "Poppy! Oh, Poppy! I feel as if I am finally whole! After so long, I feel as if I have been walking in the mist and finally the sun is shining through and I can see! I can see, Poppy!" 

Poppy shook her head but she was smiling. "This has something to do with Dumbledore, doesn't it?" 

"How did you know?" 

Poppy slowly sank into the seat next to Minerva, her blue eyes baring into her as she did. She was silent, her mouth straight, her face revealing nothing. A look of solemn thought crept across Poppy's features, so deeply ingrained that it made Minerva nervous. They were alike in that they both hide what they were thinking, never revealing it on their faces, and Minerva had no idea what was going through Poppy's mind. Her silence worried Minerva still and she felt her own smile slowly fade into a tight grimace. 

"What? What is it?" 

Poppy sighed. "You're going to tell me that you have finally told Albus that you are in love with him." 

Minerva nodded. "How-" 

"It's been obvious to me for years," Poppy explained. "I've always known it. And I know that he feels the same about you. He's much easier to read than you are - the lingering looks, the sighs of hopelessness, yes, Albus has been in love with for a while, probably the same amount of time as you have been in love with him..." she trailed off, biting her lip in thought. She grabbed a hold of Minerva's hand and squeezed it. "It is delightful to see you so happy, Minerva. We've lived lonely lives, passionless lives and I'm so very glad that you have found it..." 

"But?" Minerva arched a brow. 

"But, I know you. And I think I know enough about him to understand how he works. If it were me, I know that you would be my sense when I had none. I know that you would be the one with the clear head so I must be yours...Minerva, right now you are feeling the glow of a new love. New and wholesome but, what are you going to do when it begins to turn sour? When it frays at the edges and you clutching onto it, trying to keep it from falling apart?" 

"Why-Why would it...turn sour?" Minerva asked gingerly. This was the reality check that she should have avoided and yet, somewhere she must have known that she needed it, otherwise she wouldn't have come straight to Poppy. If she had stayed with Albus, they would have become further and further lost into the dream they were creating and by the time they had finished, it would have been too late for Minerva to free herself from it. She was glad to know that she hadn't completely lost her head, that a slither of rationality still remained within her, which had drawn her into Poppy's home. 

"Albus is a mystery. Albus is secretive. Albus is honourable and I'll wager, now that you two have spoken to each other, Albus will be protective. Separately, these attributes are not a problem but combine them all together? Minerva, you'll spend your years frustrated and annoyed. You could never be happy in a relationship where, no matter how honourable the intentions, Albus was never completely honest with you. I'm not saying that he will outright lie but - but he will omit the facts and that will build and build within you until you resent him for doing it and resent yourself for accepting it." 

Minerva closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her hand. She shook her head, reeling from the instant disappointment she felt. Poppy was right and had Minerva not been swept up, she would have come to the same conclusion. As much as Minerva was glad that her actions that morning had resulted in a promising change, she wasn't willing to give up completely who she was. She was willing to let her life change but to let herself compromise all of the time, for the sake of their hearts, was not something that Minerva wanted to do. The very thought of it did not sit well with her, it layed like a stone across her chest. Her shoulders slumped, her dream in shatters. 

"Are you saying that I should break it off... before it had even started?" 

"No, Minerva, I would never dream-" Poppy lifted her hand and gently pulled Minerva's forlorn face to face hers. "I would never tell you what to do. You know your own heart and you know how you feel. I just know that the relief of finally having a chance with him will cloud your vision and these are things that you need to consider. It doesn't mean that you can't -" Poppy sighed. "I want you to be happy and if I'm honest, I think that being with Albus is the closest you are ever going to get to be happy, for who has ever known complete happiness? But you have to be sensible, Minerva. I don't want to see you get hurt. You need to discuss these sorts of things before anything else happens." 

 

*

 

Albus was due to call for Minerva in ten minutes but Minerva, completely thrown by all of the changes and realisations of the day, couldn't think straight for long enough to do anything but sit on the floor, back leaning against an armchair, staring at a dead fire. She sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees, her chin resting in the small gap, her eyes wide and lifeless. Too much was happening, too many strange feelings were swimming around her body, for her to make any sense of them. She felt vulnerable, more hopeless than if Albus had rejected her, and if she wasn't keeping a very tight but shaky hold of herself, she would have been lost in waves of despair. 

Part of her was filled with delicious anticipation. She was going to see Albus again, the new Albus who had promised her love. She would spend the evening in embraces, in talks of love and that made her heart thrum excitedly. The thing was, she knew that she had to broach the subject of Poppy's concerns and deep down, Minerva knew that Albus wouldn't be able to compromise. He would agree to it and he would try, wholeheartedly, but in the end, his fear for Minerva's safety would take over and he would end up lying to her or isolating her. Why hadn't she thought of that when she had been pacing this very room all night whilst she waited for the dawn? Why had she been so fixated on claiming that she loved him that she hadn't been able to picture any relationship that they might have? 

All too soon, she heard Albus arrive. She listened as he let himself in with the password but didn't move. She didn't turn to look at him as he entered the dark sitting room. The room was suddenly alight with the warm glow of the fire and she heard him stop in his tracks when he finally noticed her crouched on the floor, completely unready for their evening plans. Her dark hair was loose and hung wildly at her shoulders and she wore only a thin, red dressing gown pulled over a silk nightdress. 

"Are you unwell, my dear?" Albus asked, his voice filled with concern. "Why are you sitting in the dark, in your...nightclothes?" 

Minerva shrugged. "I hadn't noticed that it had gotten dark," she mumbled. 

She listened as he shuffled about the room but still didn't move. She only looked up when she felt him standing in front of her. She lifted her eyes from the ground as he knelt down to face her. His face was so tenderly soft, his expression one of deepest concern and she had to look away. She couldn't look at him without her heart breaking. 

"Minerva, you're scaring me," he said. "What's wrong with you?" 

She shook her head. Why was her happiness short lived? Why was she bound to a life of nothingness? She, who had never asked for anything? 

He gently turned her head to look at him, his soft hand cupped around her chin. "Oh, my dear, tell me what's wrong." 

Minerva jumped to her feet and pulled away from him. If he came near her, she wouldn't have the strength to say what she wanted to say. To say what needed to be said. "I spoke to Poppy," she said. 

"Ah," Albus nodded slowly. "And she has shattered your illusions?" 

"Yes." 

"At least somebody has been clear headed," he muttered. 

"Yes," Minerva murmured. "And now, I think-" 

"You must tell me what you want from me," Albus declared determinedly. "Because I mean to be with you for the rest of my life. Whatever that takes. Whatever it takes, Minerva," he added, this time softly. 

"I cannot ask you to change who you are." 

"What do you mean?" 

Minerva sighed. "You are an honourable man, Albus, and that drives all of your actions, I know, but- But, I cannot live a life with you knowing that I will never be party to your every thought. That you will keep things from me in order to ensure that I am happy and safe. You've kept things from me for that very reason before but then you had a right too. You were not my own then and you owed me nothing but now... Now, if we were to embark on a relationship, you do owe it to me. You have to share everything with me, the good and the bad. I am a grown woman, capable of holding my own, I have done for the whole of my life." 

Albus sighed quietly. Minerva was right, he had kept many things from her in the past, to keep her safe, to keep her blissfully ignorant. He hadn't told her when the Potter's had been forced into hiding because of the prophecy (which he also hadn't mentioned) and he knew that she had been shocked and dismayed at this when the Potter's had been killed. He also hadn't told her about Riddle's obsession with her. He had no idea where it stemmed from but Severus had mentioned it more than once as a warning. He had kept it all from her to keep her safe, to allow her to remain as happy as she could. She had enough to worry about, enough fears to keep her up at night that he didn't want to add to her troubles. It had all been done in good faith but he could see now that Minerva was right; if there were to be any sort of romantic relationship between them then he would have to always be honest with her. Minerva was a strong-willed woman, the most powerful witch he'd ever known and she didn't deserve to be treated like a delicate child. He just wasn't sure if he'd be able to change - he would always want to protect her and protecting her might often mean that he would have to keep things from her. 

He knew that Minerva was waiting for an answer. He wasn't sure if he could give her one either way and so instead he muttered: "You make a very valid point, Minerva." 

She nodded. She crossed her arms and sank into the nearest chair. "We have to be adult about this. At the moment, we stand to have our hearts broken and that will be bad enough but it will be better than trying to build a life together and having it fall apart because we didn't have the discussion at the beginning. I'm so sorry, so very sorry that this had ended before it really began." 

Panic filled him. "Wait, what? What has ended, I haven't even..." 

"We must be sensible about this, I can't-" 

"You have to let me speak!" Albus shouted in desperation. His magic cracked in the air around him and Minerva's mouth snapped shut. "I am not willing to walk away from you. Not when I have waited for nearly forty years to finally be with you. I can't do it, Minerva. I won't do it. We have the chance to be happy, to be perfectly and blissfully happy and I am not going to give up at the first hurdle. No, I cannot do it." 

"And what if I give myself to you, heart and soul? What if I give my life to you? I don't know if I am willing to take that chance, all the while knowing that it could fall apart at any moment." 

Her face fell into the palms of her hands. Albus had never seen her look so desperate...so hopeless. Her thin shoulders sagged and her long legs were pulled up tightly towards her narrow frame. He noticed that her hands shock a little and he could have cried. The steely, gritty and capable Minerva he knew, with her square jaw and determined dignity, was gone and for the first time he could see what heartbreak could do to her. She was a shell, a cold shell slowly losing it's soul. If he couldn't be what she wanted, what she needed, then he ran the risk of ruining her forever. If the Minerva he knew were to melt away because of him, he'd never forgive himself, but selfishly, he just couldn't consider leaving. The very thought of it brought a pain to his heart which caused his breath to hitch. 

He had to fight for her, there was no other way. 

He fell to his knees at her feet and very gently pulled her hands away from her face. He kissed one lightly and squeezed both. Her green eyes were like fire, brimming with pain and sparkling with a reluctant joy. Without thinking, he reached up and tucked a dark curl behind her ear, away from her sweet, luminous face. "Minerva, I promise you that from now on, I will be completely honest with you. I will tell you everything I know, relevant or not. There will be no secrets between us. I love you. I want to be with you and I will never do anything that might jeopardize us. I beg you to please believe me. Please take this leap of faith with me. We could have such a life together. A life we can hardly imagine. You deserve it. Please," he lowered his head, pulling her hands towards his him. 

His bright blue eyes swam, full of desperation and need. Minerva stared, breathing deeply. Could he commit to this? Was he really capable of always being honest and open with her? Had she the strength to walk away if he wasn't? She didn't know but her own desperation pulled her from her seat and into his willing arms. She buried herself in his embrace, clutching onto his robes in an attempt to pull him closer, to become a part of him. His arms cradled her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go. 

"Do you think that we will finally be together?" She asked. 

"If you'll have me," he replied. 

"Yes. Always yes," she whispered and she felt the great sigh of relief leave his body as he kissed the top of her head fiercely. 

 

 


	20. A Conversation Proposal

"Would you want to get married?" Minerva asked one Saturday afternoon. 

Albus and Minerva had settled into a tender routine, one which seemed exciting and new, familiar and life-long all at once. They spent every free moment together; evenings and weekends; sometimes taking walks through the forgotten part of the Forbidden Forest where they would wander arm in arm, mostly in silence, Albus brooding and Minerva worrying about what bothered him. When the weather was bad, they settled for short walks through the hidden passages of the castle, where they would often be held up when Albus turned to her all of a sudden, his face dark with desire, and kissed her. These kisses, the fantastically urgent ones, made Minerva's knees go weak. Albus would pull her towards him, his grip strong and confident, and Minerva revelled in the helplessness, pulling at his robes and arching her back - anything to lessen the space between them. The first time he had done it, Minerva was almost certain that the kiss would end up as a quick, passion tryst but, it had been many months and many more kisses and nothing had happened. Minerva felt her own desire mirrored in him and as the urgency and passion of the kisses grew, Minerva waited in vein for the inevitable. Just as Minerva moaned uncontrollably into his mouth, just as Albus's warm hands reached up to tug at the shoulders of her dress - it all stopped. Albus would push himself away, smile at her and kiss her head. After a moment, he sometimes took a hold of her hand and kissed that too and they would carry on with their walk, never saying a word about it. 

It confused Minerva completely. She was sure that Albus was in love with her and she was sure that he wanted a relationship. Minerva had very limited experience when it came to being in a relationship but she was no fool - she knew exactly what they entailed and although she hadn't given it much thought in the past, she was a little concerned that after nearly six months together, they had yet to do anything about it. She was older than she would have liked, she knew but, just like Albus, she was ageing well. Her hair was still dark, even if it was showing signs of silver around the temples, and her skin was smooth enough, save for the fine lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, and it glowed quite nicely when she smiled. She had retained the figure of her youth thanks for her naturally narrow frame and long limbs; no, she was certainly not awful for her age and barely looked a day over forty. Even Minerva in the thralls of love knew that it would not just be her physical appearance that needed to be considered but also how she conducted herself and if she were completely honest, she wasn't sure where she was failing. She was always light around him, charming and witty. She had yet to contradict him in any serious way, something she had done on purpose for she knew how quickly her temper could run away from her and it didn't bring out the best of her. Only now, she considered that perhaps reigning herself in hadn't been the best choice - had Albus known her for so many years and perhaps he could see that she was not being her complete self. But why didn't he just say? 

The truth was Minerva was more than worried about it. The hours they spent together were wonderful but she wanted more. She wanted to follow him to bed at night, fall asleep in his arms and rise with him in the morning. To hours, the hours alone together at night, whether they were sleeping, reading, talking, making love, were the intimacy she yearned for. She always liked her solitude, she enjoyed her own company but now that Albus was in her life in this brilliant, new way she no longer wanted that. If she was to share her heart with him, she wanted to share her life too. She was not one to do things half-heartedly and on deciding to embark on this course, she had made the decision with the full knowledge of what to expect. Only, this wasn't what she had expected and she couldn't help but wonder why he was so... cordial. Some nights, when he rose from his seat at ten o'clock ready to say goodnight, Minerva had been tempted to ask him to stay but something had held her back. She was sure that it was not her body which stopped him from bedding her, he reached out for it often enough, and if it was her careful manner she was sure that he would have commented on it. The only conclusion that she could come to was that Albus was hesitant because it wouldn't be proper. 

And so, as they sat in her sitting room on a cold March morning, she at a small desk by the window head down marking scrolls and he dozing in an armchair, long legs stretched out in front of him, Minerva said as nonchalantly, cooly and calmly as she could, without looking up from her task: "Would you want to get married?" 

Albus has obviously been feigning sleep for his eyes snapped open and he sat up straight immediately. "Forgive me, my dear, I think I've misheard-" 

"You heard me clear enough," Minerva barked, her quill still scratching across the parchment. "When you are properly asleep your head rolls back a little. And you snore, Albus." 

He laughed lightly. "Fine, fine. I did hear what you said but I'm confused. Why would you be thinking of marriage, aren't you happy?" 

"Of course I am," she declared heatedly. "My question has nothing to do with whether I am happy or not. Obviously, if I were unhappy, I wouldn't have asked in the first place." 

"Minerva, do you think you could look at me whilst we have this conversation? It's quite a serious topic." 

She threw down her quill and turned in her chair. "I didn't mean for it to be serious," she said. "I was merely asking if that is something that you want to do." 

Albus furrowed his brown lightly and surveyed Minerva intently. He gave nothing away in his expression. No matter how hard Minerva tried, she could not read what he was thinking and that infuriated her. She hoped that she could be as hard to read as he but something told her that her face was too animated, her temper too close to the surface, for her to ever be as mysterious as he. 

"My feelings on the matter are not the most pressing concern here," he said slowly. "Something must have evoked you to propose marriage-" 

"Now!" Minerva cried. "I did not 'propose' anything!" 

"It seems as if you did," he grinned. "Whether you believe it or not. You have just sat there and asked if I want to marry you. And before I discuss my feelings on that, I need to know what prompted the question. I remember that I mentioned marriage when you very first declared your feelings for me but I did not go into any great depth. And, if I recall correctly, you hardly commented on it all. In fact, your were reluctant to even pursue a relationship with me because of your age so why would you want to get married-" 

"Are you saying that I'm too old to get married?" Minerva quipped, her brows raised. 

"No! Once again you let your temper interrupt me. Smooth your ruffled feathers, my dear, and listen to me. All I'm saying is that you were not set on marriage, at least you never gave that impression, and we haven't discussed at all recently. Why, all of a sudden, do you wish to wed? Have my charms had such a delightful impact on you that you are swept up in them?" 

Minerva waved her hand. "Oh, just forget that I said anything. Go back to sleep, I have to finish these-" 

Without a word or movement, Minerva's papers rose from the desk and flew across the room. She scowled at Albus but said nothing - she just wanted him to move on from the subject, she felt like a fool for bringing it up in the first place. Clearly, he wasn't interested in marrying her at all and she was not about to explain herself to him only to be told that he did not feel the same as her. She suddenly felt as if she had dragged them into a place that they weren't ready for and as soon as Albus said so, it would mean the end for them. She knew that couples did not come back from being in different places; she would grow to resent him because he wouldn't marry her and in turn, he would resent her for bringing the subject up too early. 

"As I was saying," Albus continued, ignoring her threatening look. "Why are you suddenly thinking of marriage?" 

Minerva shrugged. "I just thought - Do you not want to marry me, Albus?" 

"It isn't just a question of whether I want to or not. There are a few things we - I mean you - would need to consider before we entered into matrimony." 

"What things?" 

Albus sighed deeply. "I am nearly half a century older than you, Minerva. We haven't properly discussed it but it's a fact. The age gap between us is part of the reason that I didn't act on my feelings for you when you lived at the house. How could I, a man who said goodbye to middle age a fair few years ago, pursue a young woman in her early twenties? And even now that you are older, though you hardly look it, of course - ("Good save," Minerva smiled) - the age gap between us hasn't closed. It's true that ageing is effected by our magic and we are both...extremely powerful so we it will take many decades for our looks to catch up with our age but Minerva! We cannot deny that I am so much older than you. We cannot forget that one day, I will look my age. One day you will wake up married to an old, feeble man and you will still be young and vibrant. Another morning you will wake up a widow." 

Minerva didn't know what to say. In all honesty, she had never considered the age gap to be a topic of contention between them. She had only ever seen Albus and loved him as he was, his age had never bothered her. When she was young and she fell in love with him she only hated herself for it because he was married to the kindest woman on earth, not because he was however many years older than her. And now, when she asked if he wanted to get married, she hadn't even thought that his objections would be because of his age. "I was not expecting you to say that," she said aloud. "I didn't realise that you thought about it that much." 

"How old are you now, my dear?" 

"I see no need to tell you, my grandmother always told me that a real lady never reveals her age," Minerva smirked. 

Laughing, Albus continued. "Well, I have a vague idea and I know for a fact that it is much less than mine. Do you really want to marry an old man, Minerva?" 

"You aren't an old man!" Minerva protested. "I've never seen you as such. And I don't care how old you are or how you or I will look in twenty, thirty years time. I love you." 

"Perhaps you need time to think-" 

"No, Albus," Minerva said heatedly. "No. I need no time to think about it. The age difference between us has never been, will not be and is not a concern of mine. So please - just let it go." 

He nodded slowly as Minerva shot him a challenging look. She was ready to counter any argument relating to that subject and he knew it. She waited as his expression softened and she sat back in her chair - he had dropped the subject. 

"So, what is then?" He smiled, his tone light. "Are you tired of living in sin?" 

"What sin?" Minerva snapped. 

The words left her mouth before she had time to think and she watched as his face softened and filled with understanding. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and she looked to the floor. 

"Ah, I see," he said slowly. "And why should that cause you to consider marriage?" 

"I thought perhaps-" Oh, why had she said anything? Why couldn't she take it all back? Her embarrassment was overwhelming and she wished for the ground to swallow her up and spit her out on another plain, far away from him. She didn't want him to know that she was embarrassed. She didn't want him to think her immature and a prude and so she sat up straight, looked him dead in the eye and said with a confidence she did not feel: "I thought perhaps that our lack of - of... physical intimacy was a result of your honourability. And I wanted to let you know that if you so wish, I would accept those terms." 

Albus laughed bitterly. "If only it were my honour! What a man I would be! No, Minerva, it has nothing to do with that." 

"Then you do not...desire it? Me?" 

His smile fell from his face, like a stone dropped in water, and he became very serious. "Oh, is that what you think? Well, I have to tell you that you couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is that I want you, in every way conceivable, Minerva, and I've been tempted more than a dozen times. To have you is to know you and all I want is to know you for rest of my life. No, my dear, marriage is not required." 

"Then what is?" She breathed, overcome with the conviction of his words and even more confused than before. 

It seemed that it was his turn to be embarrassed for he turned a light shade of pink and coughed nervously. "I...The thing is...Minerva I think I know you well enough to know that you have never been in love with anybody but me. I think I know that you've never really been away from the castle, save the years you lived at the house and I-" 

"Oh!" Minerva cried. "That? Because I have never known love? That is only because I have only ever loved you, Albus." 

"Yes, but suppose you should... I don't know - change your mind?" 

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Minerva seethed. "I am a grown woman! I have found you, I have fallen in love with you and as far as I'm concerned, I am done. I love you and that is final. There will be no other, just as there was no other before. If you weren't so hell-bent on this you could have saved me a lot of my dignity!" And tired of having the same conversation, tired of being ignored and passed over, she rose from her seat and said heatedly: "Do you know what, Dumbledore? Don't worry about it. Just forget I mentioned marriage, or this, or anything else! It seems that you do not listen to me anyway!" 

"Don't lose your temper, Minerva-" 

"How can I not? Do you know how frustrating it is not being listened to? It's drives me mad, Albus!" 

"Then we are even," he said, rising to his feet and grabbing her. He pulled her to him with a force which both surprised and thrilled her. "For you drive me mad! With every movement, with every sound - you pull me closer to insanity!" 

And he kissed her urgently, hungrily and pulled her so close she felt as if she might melt into him. Before either of them knew it, they were in the evening gloom of the bedroom, shutting the door and locking the world out. Within moments, they created their own world and both were lost within it for days. 

Three weeks later, Albus married her and Minerva became Mrs Dumbledore. 

 


End file.
